■  ;■*»#•  \    ,     -■     .  inipwf#  —  M.I  MM  I 


iV-y -.■:■:  ;■; 


IIIKIIIT 

LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  09 
CALIFORNIA 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2007  with  funding  from 

Microsoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/bonniebriebesideOOmaclrich 


BESIDE  THE  BONNIE  BRIER  BUSH 


i  son,  J***,  /Z5-*-/9t>7 


IOAN  SfACfc 


COPYKIGHT,    1894 

By  DODD,  MEAD  AND  COMPANY, 
All  rights  reserved. 


TO   MY  WIFE 


OK5* 


PUBLISHERS1    NOTE 

The  illustrations  in  this  book  are  from  photo- 
graphs taken  in  Logiealmond  (Drumtochty)  by 
Mr.  Clifton  Johnson,  who  has  so  well  illustrated 
other  books  in  the  same  manner.  They  are  actual 
pictures  of  scenes  in  which  the  stories  are  laid,  and 
of  the  people  who  move  amid  these  scenes,  and 
who  are  the  original  types  from  which  the  char- 
acters are  drawn. 


CONTENTS 

mm 
L  DOMSIE. 

i.  A  Lad  o'  Pairts, 3 

2.  how  we  carried  the  news  to  whinnie 

Knowe, 19 

3.  |n  Marget's  Garden,      ....        29 

4.  A  Scholar's  Funeral,    ....        42 

II.  A  HIGHLAND  MYSTIC. 

1.  What  Eye  hath  not  seen,    ...        59 

2.  Against  Principalities  and  Powers,    .        72 

III.  HIS  MOTHER'S  SERMON,     .        .        .        .        87 

IV.  THE    TRANSFORMATION   OF  LACHLAN 

CAMPBELL. 

1.  A  Grand  Inquisitor,      .        .  .105 

2.  His  Bitter  Shame, 124 

3.  Like  as  a  Father, 144 

4.  As  a  Little  Child,  •       .      160 

vii 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

V.  THE     CUNNING    SPEECH     OF     DRUM- 

TOCHTY, i79 

VI.  A  WISE  WOMAN. 

i.  Our  Sermon  Taster,       ....  201 

2.  The  Collapse  of  Mrs.  Macfadyen,      .  216 

VII.  A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL. 

1.  A  General  Practitioner,       .        .       ,  233 

2.  Through  the  Flood,      ....  252 

3.  A  Fight  with  Death,    .        .        .       .271 

4.  The  Doctor's  last  Journey,          .        .  290 

5.  The  Mourning  of  the  Glen,        .       .  309 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


Frontispiece 

Playing  "Tig*    among  the  Trees 

A  Corner  of  the  Garden 

Looking  down  on  the  Glen  from  the 
to  the  Moor 


Wood 


The  Free  Kirk 

The  Minister  in  the  Manse  Garden 

In  a  Fir  Wood  Praying 

Lachlan's  Bible  Reading 

The  Village  Shop    . 

Gathering  Flowers  in  a  Pine 

Above  Ninety 

In  a  Cottage  Kitchen     . 

Mrs  MacFadyen 

Mrs.  MacFadyen's  Wall  of  Crockery 

Napping  Stones 

Weelum  MacLure's  House 

Glen  Urtach    . 

MacLure  taks  oot  the  bit  Bottles 

Annie  comin'  tae  meet  me    . 


Path 


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253 

ILLUSTRATIONS 

Tammas  Threshing 

The  Vista  of  Beeches  near  the  Kirk  Gate 

The  Smiddy    .        .        . 

Drumsheugh    searched    for    a    Comfortable 
Scripture         ....        Facing 

The  Drumtochty  Wricht  in  his  Shop 

Women  Standing  at  the  Door      .        .        • 


Page  267 

<< 

28S 

44 

393 

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302 

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319 

14 

323 

DOMSIE 


*  There  grows  a  bonnie  brier  bush  in  our  kail-yard. 
And  white  are  the  blossoms  on  7  in  our  kail-yard? 


A  LAD    O*    PAIRTS 

The  Revolution  reached  our  parish  years 
ago,  and  Drumtochty  has  a  School  Board,  with 
a  chairman  and  a  clerk,  besides  a  treasurer  and 
an  officer.  Young  Hillocks,  who  had  two 
years  in  a  lawyer's  office,  is  clerk,  and  sum- 
mons meetings  by  post,  although  he  sees  every 
member  at  the  market  or  the  kirk.  Minutes 
are  read  with  much  solemnity,  and  motions  to 
expend  ten  shillings  upon  a  coal-cellar  door 
passed,  on  the  motion  of  Hillocks,  seconded 
by  Drumsheugh,  who  are  both  severely 
prompted  for  the  occasion,  and  move  uneasily 
before  speaking. 

Drumsheugh  was  at  first  greatly  exalted  by 
his  poll,  and  referred  freely  on  market  days  to 
his  "  plumpers/'  but  as  time  went  on  the  irony 
of  the  situation  laid  hold  upon  him. 


4  DOMSIE 

"Think  o*  you  and  me,  Hillocks,  veesitin* 
the  schule  and  sittin'  wf  bukes  in  oor  hands 
watchin'  the  Inspector.  Keep's  a',  it'  eneuch 
to  mak'  the  auld  Dominie  turn  in  his  grave. 
Twa  meenisters  cam'  in  his  time,  and  Domsie 
put  Geordie  Hoo  or  some  ither  gleg  laddie, 
that  was  makin*  for  college,  thro*  his  facin's, 
and  maybe  some  bit  lassie  brocht  her  copy- 
buke.  Syne  they  had  their  dinner,  and  Dom- 
sie tae,  wi*  the  Doctor.  Man,  a've  often 
thocht  it  was  the  prospeck  o*  the  Schule  Board 
and  its  weary  bit  rules  that  feenished  Domsie, 
He  wasna  maybe  sae  shairp  at  the  elements  as 
this  pirjinct  body  we  hae  noo,  but  a'body  kent 
he  was  a  terrible  scholar  and  a  credit  tae  the 
parish.  Drumtochty  was  a  name  in  thae  days 
wi'  the  lads  he  sent  tae  college.  It  was  maybe 
juist  as  weel  he  slippit  awa'  when  he  did,  for  he 
wud  hae  taen  ill  with  thae  new  fikes,  and  nae 
college  lad  to  warm  his  hert." 

The  present  school-house  stands  in  an  open 
place  beside  the  main  road  to  Muirtown,  tree- 
less and  comfortless,  built  of  red,  staring  stone, 
with  a  playground  for  the  boys  and  another 
for  the  girls,  and  a  trim,  smug-looking  teacher's 


A   LAD   O'   PAIRTS  5 

house,  all  very  neat  and  symmetrical,  and  well 
regulated.  The  local  paper  had  a  paragraph 
headed  "  Drumtochty,"  written  by  the  Muir- 
town  architect,  describing  the  whole  premises 
in  technical  language  that  seemed  to  compen- 
sate the  ratepayers  for  the  cost,  mentioning  the 
contractor's  name,  and  concluding  that  "  this 
handsome  building  of  the  Scoto-Grecian  style 
was  one  of  the  finest  works  that  had  ever  come 
from  the  accomplished  architect's  hands."  It 
has  pitch-pine  benches  and  map-cases,  and  a 
thermometer  to  be  kept  at  not  less  than  5 8° 
and  not  more  than  620,  and  ventilators  which 
the  Inspector  is  careful  to  examine.  When  I 
stumbled  in  last  week  the  teacher  was  drilling 
the  children  in  Tonic  Sol-fa  with  a  little  har- 
monium, and  I  left  on  tiptoe. 

It  is  difficult  to  live  up  to  this  kind  of  thing, 
and  my  thoughts  drift  to  the  auld  schule-house 
and  Domsie.  Some  one  with  the  love  of  God 
in  his  heart  had  built  it  long  ago,  and  chose  a 
site  for  the  bairns  in  the  sweet  pine-woods  at 
the  foot  of  the  cart  road  to  Whinnie  Knowe 
and  the  upland  farms.  It  stood  in  a  clearing 
with  the  tall  Scotch  firs  round  three  sides,  and 


6  DOMSIE 

on  the  fourth  a  brake  of  gorse  and  bramble 
bushes,  through  which  there  was  an  opening 
to  the  road.  The  clearing  was  the  play- 
ground,  and  in  summer  the  bairns  annexed  as 
much  wood  as  they  liked,  playing  tig  among 
the  trees,  or  sitting  down  at  dinner-time  on  the 
soft,  dry  spines  that  made  an  elastic  carpet 
everywhere.  Domsie  used  to  say  there  were 
two  pleasant  sights  for  his  old  eyes  every  day. 
One  was  to  stand  in  the  open  at  dinner-time 
and  see  the  flitting  forms  of  the  healthy,  rosy 
sonsie  bairns  in  the  wood,  and  from  the  door 
in  the  afternoon  to  watch  the  schule  skail  till 
each  group  was  lost  in  the  kindly  shadow,  and 
the  merry  shouts  died  away  in  this  quiet  place. 
Then  the  Dominie  took  a  pinch  of  snuff  and 
locked  the  door,  and  went  to  his  house  beside 
the  school.  One  evening  I  came  on  him  listen- 
ing bare-headed  to  the  voices,  and  he  showed 
so  kindly  that  I  shall  take  him  as  he  stands.  A 
man  of  middle  height,  but  stooping  below  it, 
with  sandy  hair  turning  to  grey,  and  bushy 
eye-brow  covering  keen,  shrewd  grey  eyes. 
You  will  notice  that  his  linen  is  coarse  but 
spotless,  and  that,  though  his  clothes  are  worn 


A  LAD  O*   PAIRTS  7 

almost  threadbare,  they  are  well  brushed  and 
orderly.  But  you  will  be  chiefly  arrested  by 
the  Dominie's  coat,  for  the  like  of  it  was  not  in 
the  parish.  It  was  a  black  dress  coat,  and  no 
man  knew  when  it  had  begun  its  history ;  in 
its  origin  and  its  continuance  it  resembled 
Melchisedek.  Many  were  the  myths  that 
gathered  round  that  coat,  but  on  this  all  were 
agreed,  that  without  it  we  could  not  have 
realised  the  Dominie,  and  it  became  to  us  the 
sign  and  trappings  of  learning.  He  had  taken 
a  high  place  at  the  University,  and  won  a  good 
degree,  and  I've  heard  the  Doctor  say  that  he 
had  a  career  before  him.  But  something  hap- 
pened in  his  life,  and  Domsie  buried  himself 
among  the  woods  with  the  bairns  of  Drum- 
tochty.  No  one  knew  the  story,  but  after  he 
died  I  found  a  locket  on  his  breast,  with  a 
proud,  beautiful  face  within,  and  I  have  fancied 
it  was  a  tragedy.  It  may  have  been  in  substi- 
tution that  he  gave  all  his  love  to  the  children, 
and  nearly  all  his  money  too,  helping  lads  to 
college,  and  affording  an  inexhaustible  store  of 
peppermints  for  the  little  ones. 

Perhaps  one  ought  to  have  been  ashamed  of 


8  DOMSIE 

that  school-house,  but  yet  it  had  its  own  dis- 
tinction, for  scholars  were  born  there,  and  now 
and  then  to  this  day  some  famous  man  will 
come  and  stand  in  the  deserted  playground 
for  a  space.  The  door  was  at  one  end,  and 
stood  open  in  summer,  so  that  the  boys  saw 
the  rabbits  come  out  from  their  holes  on  the 
edge  of  the  wood,  and  birds  sometimes  flew  in 
unheeded.  The  fireplace  was  at  the  other  end, 
and  was  fed  in  winter  with  the  sticks  and  peats 
brought  by  the  scholars.  On  one  side  Domsie 
sat  with  the  half-dozen  lads  he  hoped  to  send 
to  college,  to  whom  he  grudged  no  labour, 
and  on  the  other  gathered  the  very  little  ones, 
who  used  to  warm  their  bare  feet  at  the  fire, 
while  down  the  sides  of  the  room  the  other 
scholars  sat  at  their  rough  old  desks,  working 
sums  and  copying.  Now  and  then  a  class 
came  up  and  did  some  task,  and  at  times  a  boy 
got  the  tawse  for  his  negligence,  but  never  a 
girl.  He  kept  the  girls  in  as  their  punishment, 
with  a  brother  to  take  them  home,  and  both  had 
tea  in  Domsie's  house,  with  a  bit  of  his  best 
honey,  departing  much  torn  between  an  honest 
wish  to  please  Domsie  and  a  pardonable  longing 
for  another  tea. 


A  LAD  O'  PAIRTS  9 

"  Domsie,"  as  we  called  the  schoolmaster, 
behind  his  back  in  Drumtochty,  because  we 
loved  him,  was  true  to  the  tradition  of  his 
kind,  and  had  an  unerring  scent  for  "pairts" 
in  his  laddies.  He  could  detect  a  scholar  in 
the  egg,  and  prophesied  Latinity  from  a  boy 
that  seemed  fit  only  to  be  a  cowherd.  It  was 
believed  that  he  had  never  made  a  mistake  in 
judgment,  and  it  was  not  his  blame  if  the  em- 
bryo scholar  did  not  come  to  birth.  "Five 
and  thirty  years  have  I  been  minister  at  Drum- 
tochty," the  Doctor  used  to  say  at  school  ex- 
aminations, "and  we  have  never  wanted  a 
student  at  the  University,  and  while  Dominie 
Jamieson  lives  we  never  shall."  Whereupon 
Domsie  took  snuff,  and  assigned  his  share  of 
credit  to  the  Doctor,  "  who  gave  the  finish  in 
Greek  to  every  lad  of  them,  without  money 
and  without  price,  to  make  no  mention  of  the 
higher  mathematics."  Seven  ministers,  four 
schoolmasters,  four  doctors,  one  professor,  and 
three  civil  service  men  had  been  sent  out  by 
the  auld  schule  in  Domsie's  time,  besides  many 
that  "  had  given  themselves  to  mercantile  pur- 
suits." 

He  had  a  leaning  to  classics  and  the  profes- 


io  DOMSIE 

sions,  but  Domsie  was  catholic  in  his  recogni- 
tion of  "  pairts,"  and  when  the  son  of  Hil- 
locks' foreman  made  a  collection  of  the  insects 
of  Drumtochty,  there  was  a  council  at  the 
manse.  "  Bumbee  Willie,"  as  he  had  been 
pleasantly  called  by  his  companions,  was  res- 
cued from  ridicule  and  encouraged  to  fulfil  his 
bent.  Once  a  year  a  long  letter  came  to  Mr. 
Patrick  Jamieson,  M.A.,  Schoolmaster,  Drum- 
tochty, N.B.,  and  the  address  within  was  the 
British  Museum.  When  Domsie  read  this 
letter  to  the  school,  he  was  always  careful  to 
explain  that  "Dr.  Graham  is  the  greatest  liv- 
ing authority  on  beetles,"  and,  generally  speak- 
ing, if  any  clever  lad  did  not  care  for  Latin,  he 
had  the  alternative  of  beetles. 

But  it  was  Latin  Domsie  hunted  for  as  for 
fine  gold,  and  when  he  found  the  smack  of  it 
in  a  lad  he  rejoiced  openly.  He  counted  it  a 
day  in  his  life  when  he  knew  certainly  that  he 
had  hit  on  another  scholar,  and  the  whole 
school  saw  the  identification  of  George  Howe. 
For  a  winter  Domsie  had  been  "  at  point,"  rac- 
ing George  through  Caesar,  stalking  him  behind 
irregular  verbs,  baiting  traps  with    tit-bits   of 


A  LAD  O'  PAIRTS  ix 

Virgil.  During  these  exercises  Domsie  sur- 
veyed George  from  above  his  spectacles  with  a 
hope  that  grew  every  day  in  assurance,  and 
came  to  its  height  over  a  bit  of  Latin  prose. 
Domsie  tasted  it  visibly,  and  read  it  again  in 
the  shadow  of  the  firs  at  meal-time,  slapping 
his  leg  twice. 

"  He'll  dae  !  he'll  dae ! "  cried  Domsie  aloud, 
ladling  in  the  snuff.  "  George,  ma  mannie,  tell 
yir  father  that  I  am  comin'  up  to  Whinnie 
Knowe  the  nicht  on  a  bit  o'  business." 

Then  the  "  schule"  knew  that  Geordie  Hoo 
was  marked  for  college,  and  pelted  him  with  fir 
cones  in  great  gladness  of  heart. 

"Whinnie"  was  full  of  curiosity  over  the 
Dominie's  visit,  and  vexed  Marget  sorely,  to 
whom  Geordie  had  told  wondrous  things  in  the 
milk-house.  "  It  canna  be  coals  'at  he's  want- 
in'  frae  the  station,  for  there's  a  fell  puckle 
left." 

"  And  it'll  no  be  seed  taties,"  she  said,  pur- 
suing the  principle  of  exhaustion,  "  for  he  hes 
some  Perthshire  reds  himsel'.  I  doot  it's 
somethin'  wrang  with  Geordie,"  and  Whinnie 
started  on  a  new  track. 


13  DOMSIE 

"  He's  been  playin'  truant  maybe.  A*  mind 
gettin'  ma  paiks  for  birdnestin*  masel.  I'll 
wager  that's  the  verra  thing." 

"  Weel,  yir  wrang,  Weelum,"  broke  in  Mar- 
get,  Whinnie's  wife,  a  tall,  silent  woman,  with 
a  speaking  face ;  "  it's  naither  the  ae  thing  nor 
the  ither,  but  something  I've  been  prayin'  for 
since  Geordie  was  a  wee  bairn.  Clean  yirsel 
and  meet  Domsie  on  the  road,  for  nae  man  de- 
serves more  honour  in  Drumtochty,  naither 
laird  nor  farmer." 

Conversation  with  us  was  a  leisurely  game, 
with  slow  movements  and  many  pauses,  and  it 
was  our  custom  to  handle  all  the  pawns  before 
we  brought  the  queen  into  action. 

Domsie  and  Whinnie  discussed  the  weather 
with  much  detail  before  they  came  in  sight  of 
George,  but  it  was  clear  that  Domsie  was 
charged  with  something  weighty,  and  even 
Whinnie  felt  that  his  own  treatment  of  the 
turnip  crop  was  wanting  in  repose. 

At  last  Domsie  cleared  his  throat  and  looked 
at  Marget,  who  had  been  in  and  out,  but  ever 
within  hearing. 

"  George  is  a  fine  laddie,  Mrs.  Howe." 


A   LAD   O*   PAIRTS  13 

An  ordinary  Drumtochty  mother,  although 
bursting  with  pride,  would  have  responded, 
"  He's  weel  eneuch,  if  he  hed  grace  in  his 
heart,"  in  a  tone  that  implied  it  was  ex- 
tremely unlikely,  and  that  her  laddie  led  the 
reprobates  of  the  parish.  As  it  was,  Marget's 
face  lightened,  and  she  waited. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  making  him  ?  "  and 
the  Dominie  dropped  the  words  slowly,  for  this 
was  a  moment  in  Drumtochty. 

There  was  just  a  single  ambition  in  those 
humble  homes,  to  have  one  of  its  members  at 
college,  and  if  Domsie  approved  a  lad,  then  his 
brothers  and  sisters  would  give  their  wages, 
and  the  family  would  live  on  skim  milk  and 
oat  cake,  to  let  him  have  his  chance. 

Whinnie  glanced  at  his  wife  and  turned  to 
Domsie. 

"  Marget's  set  on  seein'  Geordie  a  minister, 
Dominie." 

"  If  he's  worthy  o't,  no  otherwise.  We 
haena  the  means  though ;  the  farm  is  highly 
rented,  and  there's  barely  a  penny  over  at  the 
end  o'  the  year." 

"  But  you  are  willing  George  should  go  and 


14  DOMSIE 

see  what  he  can  do.  If  he  disappoint  you, 
then  I  dinna  know  a  lad  o'  pairts  when  I  see 
him,  and  the  Doctor  is  with  me." 

"  Maister  Jamieson,"  said  Marget,  with  great 
solemnity,  "  ma  hert's  desire  is  to  see  George  a 
minister,  and  if  the  Almichty  spared  me  to 
hear  ma  only  bairn  open  his  mooth  in  the 
Evangel,  I  wud  hae  naething  mair  to  ask  .  .  . 
but  I  doot  sair  it  canna  be  managed." 

Domsie  had  got  all  he  asked,  and  he  rose  in 
his  strength. 

"  If  George  Howe  disna  get  to  college,  then 
he's  the  first  scholar  I've  lost  in  Drumtochty 
...  ye  'ill  manage  his  keep  and  sic  like  ?  " 

"  Nae  fear  o'  that,"  for  Whinnie  was  warm- 
ing, "tho'  I  haena  a  steek  (stitch)  o'  new 
claithes  for  four  years.  But  what  aboot  his 
fees  and  ither  ootgaeins  ?  " 

"  There's  ae  man  in  the  parish  can  pay 
George's  fees  without  missing  a  penny,  and  I'll 
warrant  he  'ill  dae  it." 

"  Are  ye  meanin'  Drumsheugh  ?  "  said  Whin- 
nie, "  for  ye  'ill  never  get  a  penny  piece  oot  o* 
him.  Did  ye  no  hear  hoo  the  Frees  wiled  him 
intae  their  kirk,  Sabbath  past  a  week,  when 


A   LAD   O'   PAIRTS  15 

Netherton's  sister's  son  frae  Edinboro*  wes 
preaching  the  missionary  sermon,  expectin'  a 
note,  and  if  he  didna  change  a  shillin'  at  the 
public-hoose  and  pit  in  a  penny.  Sail,  he's  a 
lad  Drumsheugh ;  a'm  thinking  ye  may  save 
yir  journey,  Dominie." 

But  Marget  looked  away  from  her  into 
the  past,  and  her  eyes  had  a  tender  light. 
"  He  hed  the  best  hert  in  the  pairish 
aince." 

Domsie  found  Drumsheugh  inclined  for  com- 
pany, and  assisted  at  an  exhaustive  and  caustic 
treatment  of  local  affairs.  When  the  conduct 
of  Piggie  Walker,  who  bought  Drumsheugh's 
potatoes  and  went  into  bankruptcy  without 
paying  for  a  single  tuber,  had  been  character- 
ized in  language  that  left  nothing  to  be  de- 
sired, Drumsheugh  began  to  soften  and  show 
signs  of  reciprocity. 

"  Hoo's  yir  laddies,  Dominie?"  whom  the 
farmers  regarded  as  a  risky  turnip  crop  in  a 
stiff  clay  that  Domsie  had  "  to  fecht  awa  in." 
"  Are  ony  o'  them  shaping  weel  ?  " 

Drumsheugh  had  given  himself  away,  and 
Domsie  laid  his  first  parallel  with   a  glowing 


16  DOMSIE 

account  of  George  Howe's  Latinity,  which  was 
well  received. 

"  Weel,  I'm  gled  tae  hear  sic  accoonts  o' 
Marget  Hoo's  son ;  there's  naething  in  Whin- 
nie  but  what  the  spune  puts  in." 

But  at  the  next  move  Drumsheugh  scented 
danger  and  stood  at  guard.  "  Na,  na,  Dominie, 
I  see  what  yir  aifter  fine;  ye  mind  hoo  ye 
got  three  notes  oot  o'  me  at  Perth  market  Mar- 
tinmas a  year  past  for  ane  o'  yir  college  laddies. 
Five  punds  for  four  years ;  my  word,  yir  no 
blate  (modest).  And  what  for  sud  I  educat 
Marget  Hoo's  bairn  ?  If  ye  kent  a'  ye  wudna 
ask  me;  it's  no  reasonable,  Dominie.  So 
there's  an  end  o't." 

Domsie  was  only  a  pedantic  old  parish 
schoolmaster,  and  he  knew  little  beyond  his 
craft,  but  the  spirit  of  the  Humanists  awoke 
within  him,  and  he  smote  with  all  his  might, 
bidding  goodbye  to  his  English  as  one  flings 
away  the  scabbard  of  a  sword. 

"Ye  think  that  a'm  asking  a  great  thing 
when  I  plead  for  a  pickle  notes  to  give  a  puir 
laddie  a  college  education.  I  tell  ye,  man,  a'm 
honourin'  ye  and  givin'  ye  the  fairest  chance 


A   LAD   O'   PAIRTS  17 

ye'll  ever  hae  o'  winning  wealth.  Gin  ye  store 
the  money  ye  hae  scrapit  by  mony  a  hard  bar- 
gain, some  heir  ye  never  saw  'ill  gar  it  flee  in 
chambering  and  wantonness.  Gin  ye  hed  the 
heart  to  spend  it  on  a  lad  o'  pairts  like  Geordie 
Hoo,  ye  wud  hae  twa  rewards  nae  man  could 
tak  fra  ye.  Ane  wud  be  the  honest  gratitude 
o'  a  laddie  whose  desire  for  knowledge  ye  hed 
sateesfied,  and  the  second  wud  be  this — an- 
ither  scholar  in  the  land ;  and  a'm  thinking 
with  auld  John  Knox  that  ilka  scholar  is 
something  added  to  the  riches  of  the  common- 
wealth. And  what  'ill  it  cost  ye  ?  Little  mair 
than  the  price  o'  a  cattle  beast.  Man,  Drums- 
heugh,  ye  poverty-stricken  cratur,  I've  naethin' 
in  this  world  but  a  handfu'  o'  books  and  a  ten- 
pund  note  for  my  funeral,  and  yet,  if  it  wasna 
I  have  all  my  brither's  bairns  tae  keep,  I  wud 
pay  every  penny  mysel'.  But  I'll  no  see 
Geordie  sent  to  the  plough,  tho'  I  gang  frae 
door  to  door.  Na,  na,  the  grass  'ill  no  grow  on 
the  road  atween  the  college  and  the  schule- 
hoose  o'  Drumtochty  till  they  lay  me  in  the 
auld  kirkyard." 

"  Sail,  Domsie  was  roosed,"  Drumsheugh  ex- 
B 


18  DOMSIE 

plained  in  the  Muirtown  inn  next  market. 
"  *  Miserly  wratch  '  was  the  ceevilest  word  on 
his  tongue.  He  wud  naither  sit  nor  taste,  and 
was  half  way  doon  the  yaird  afore  I  cud  quiet 
him.  An*  a'm  no  sayin'  he  hed  na  reason  if  I'd 
been  meanin'  a'  I  said.  It  wud  be  a  scan'al  to 
the  pairish  if  a  likely  lad  cudna  win  tae  college 
for  the  want  o'  siller.  Na,  na,  neeburs,  we  hae 
oor  faults,  but  we're  no  sae  dune  mean  as  that 
in  Drumtochty." 

As  it  was,  when  Domsie  did  depart  he  could 
only  grip  Drumsheugh's  hand,  and  say  Mae- 
cenas, and  was  so  intoxicated,  but  not  with 
strong  drink,  that  he  explained  to  Hillocks 
on  the  way  home  that  Drumsheugh  would  be 
a  credit  to  Drumtochty,  and  that  his  Latin  style 
reminded  him  of  Cicero.  He  added  as  an  after- 
thought that  Whinnie  Knowe  had  promised 
to  pay  Drumsheugh's  fees  for  four  years  at 
the  University  of  Edinburgh. 


II 

HOW  WE  CARRIED  THE  NEWS  TO 
WHINNIE  KNOWE 

Domsie  was  an  artist,  and  prepared  the  way 
for  George's  University  achievement  with 
much  cunning.  Once  every  Sabbath  in  the 
kirk-yard,  where  he  laid  down  the  law  beneath 
an  old  elm  tree,  and  twice  between  Sabbaths, 
at  the  post-office  and  by  the  wayside,  he  ad- 
jured us  not  to  expect  beyond  measure,  and 
gave  us  reasons. 

"  Ye  see,  he  has  a  natural  talent  for  learning, 
and  took  to  Latin  like  a  duck  to  water.  What 
could  be  done  in  Drumtochty  was  done  for 
him,  and  he's  working  night  and  day,  but  he'll 
have  a  sore  fight  with  the  lads  from  the  town 
schools.  Na,  na,  neighbours,"  said  the  Domi- 
nie, lapsing  into  dialect,  "  we  daurna  luik  for  a 
prize.     No  the  first  year,  at  ony  rate." 

"  Man,  Dominie.     A'm  clean  astonished   at 


20  DOMSIE 

ye,"  Drumsheugh  used  to  break  in,  who,  since 
he  had  given  to  George's  support,  outran  us  all 
in  his  faith,  and  had  no  patience  with  Domsie's 
devices,  "a'  tell  ye  if  Geordie  disna  get  a  first 
in  every  class  he's  entered  for,  the  judges  'ill 
be  a  puir  lot,"  with  a  fine  confusion  of  circum- 
stances. 

"  Losh,  Drumsheugh,  be  quiet,  or  ye'll  dae 
the  laddie  an  injury,"  said  Domsie,  with  genu- 
ine alarm.  "  We  maunna  mention  prizes,  and 
first  is  fair  madness.  A  certificate  of  honour 
now,  that  will  be  aboot  it,  may  be  next  to  the 
prizemen." 

Coming  home  from  market  he  might  open 
his  heart.  "  George  'ill  be  amang  the  first  sax, 
or  my  name  is  no  Jamieson,"  but  generally  he 
prophesied  a  moderate  success.  There  were 
times  when  he  affected  indifference,  and  talked 
cattle.  We  then  regarded  him  with  awe,  be- 
cause this  was  more  than  mortal. 

It  was  my  luck  to  carry  the  bulletin  to  Dom- 
sie, and  I  learned  what  he  had  been  enduring. 
It  was  good  manners  in  Drumtochty  to  feign 
amazement  at  the  sight  of  a  letter,  and  to  in- 
sist that  it  must  be  intended  for  some  other 


HOW  WE  CARRIED  THE  NEWS      21 

person.  When  it  was  finally  forced  Ujpon  one* 
you  examined  the  handwriting  at  various 
angles  and  speculated  about  the  writer.  Some 
felt  emboldened,  after  these  precautions,  to 
open  the  letter,  but  this  haste  was  considered 
indecent.  When  Posty  handed  Drumsheugh 
the  factor's  letter,  with  the  answer  to  his  offer 
for  the  farm,  he  only  remarked,  "  It'll  be  frae 
the  factor,"  and  harked  back  to  a  polled  Angus 
bull  he  had  seen  at  the  show.  "Sail,"  said 
Posty  in  the  kirkyard  with  keen  relish,  "  ye'll 
never  flurry  Drumsheugh."  Ordinary  letters 
were  read  in  leisurely  retirement,  and,  in  case 
of  urgency,  answered  within  the  week. 

Domsie  clutched  the  letter,  and  would  have 
torn  off  the  envelope.  But  he  could  not ;  his 
hand  was  shaking  like  an  aspen.  He  could 
only  look,  and  I  read : 

"Dear  Mr.  Jamieson, — The  class  honour 
lists  are  just  out,  and  you  will  be  pleased  to 
know  that  I  have  got  the  medal  both  in  the 
Humanity  and  the  Greek." 

There  was  something  about  telling  his  moth- 
er, and  his  gratitude  to  his  schoolmaster,  but 
Domsie  heard  no  more.    He  tried  to  speak  and 


22  DOMSIE 

could  not,  for  a  rain  of  tears  was  on  his  hard 
old  face.  Domsie  was  far  more  a  pagan  than  a 
saint,  but  somehow  he  seemed  to  me  that  day 
as  Simeon,  who  had  at  last  seen  his  heart's  de- 
sire, and  was  satisfied. 

When  the  school  had  dispersed  with  a  joyful 
shout,  and  disappeared  in  the  pine  woods,  he 
said,  "  Ye'll  come  too,"  and  I  knew  he  was  go- 
ing to  Whinnie  Knowe.  He  did  not  speak 
one  word  upon  the  way,  but  twice  he  stood 
and  read  the  letter  which  he  held  fast  in  his 
hand.  His  face  was  set  as  he  climbed  the  cart 
track.  I  saw  it  set  again  as  we  came  down 
that  road  one  day,  but  it  was  well  that  we 
could  not  pierce  beyond  the  present. 

Whinnie  left  his  plough  in  the  furrow,  and 
came  to  meet  us,  taking  two  drills  at  a  stride, 
and  shouting  remarks  on  the  weather  yards  off. 

Domsie  only  lifted  the  letter.  "  Frae 
George." 

"  Ay,  ay,  and  what's  he  gotten  noo  ?  " 

Domsie  solemnly  unfolded  the  letter,  and 
brought  down  his  spectacles.  "  Edinburgh, 
April  7th."  Then  he  looked  at  Whinnie,  and 
closed  his  mouth. 


HOW  WE  CARRIED  THE  NEWS      23 

"  We'll  tell  it  first  to  his  mither." 

"  Yer  richt,  Dominie.  She  weel  deserves  it. 
A'm  thinking  she's  seen  us  by  this  time."  So 
we  fell  into  a  procession,  Dominie  leading  by 
two  yards  ;  and  then  a  strange  thing  happened. 
For  the  first  and  last  time  in  his  life  Domsie 
whistled,  and  the  tune  was  "  A  hundred  pipers 
and  a'  and  a',"  and  as  he  whistled  he  seemed 
to  dilate  before  our  eyes,  and  he  struck  down 
thistles  with  his  stick — a  thistle  at  every 
stroke. 

"  Domsie's  fair  carried,"  whispered  Whinnie, 
"  it  cowes  a'." 

Marget  met  us  at  the  end  of  the  house  be- 
side the  brier  bush,  where  George  was  to  sit  on 
summer  afternoons  before  he  died,  and  a  flash 
passed  between  Domsie  and  the  lad's  mother. 
Then  she  knew  that  it  was  well,  and  fixed  her 
eyes  on  the  letter,  but  Whinnie,  his  thumbs  in 
his  armholes,  watched  the  wife. 

Domsie  now  essayed  to  read  the  news,  but 
between  the  shaking  of  his  hands  and  his 
voice  he  could  not. 

"  It's  nae  use,"  he  cried,  "  he's  first  in  the 
Humanity  00 1  o'  a  hundred  and  seeventy  lads, 


24  DOMSIE 

first  o'  them  a',  and  he's  first  in  the  Greek  too ; 
the  like  o'  this  is  hardly  known,  and  it  has  na 
been  seen  in  Drumtochty  since  there  was  a 
schule.  That's  the  word  he's  sent,  and  he 
bade  me  tell  his  mother  without  delay,  and  I 
am  here  as  fast  as  my  old  feet  could  carry  me." 

I  glanced  round,  although  I  did  not  myself 
see  very  clearly. 

Marget  was  silent  for  the  space  of  five  sec- 
onds ;  she  was  a  good  woman,  and  I  knew  that 
better  afterwards.  She  took  the  Dominie's 
hand,  and  said  to  him,  "  Under  God  this  was 
your  doing,  Maister  Jamieson,  and  for  your  re- 
ward ye'ill  get  naither  silver  nor  gold,  but  ye 
hae  a  mither's  gratitude." 

Whinnie  gave  a  hoarse  chuckle  and  said  to 
his  wife,  "  It  was  frae  you,  Marget,  he  got 
it  a'." 

When  we  settled  in  the  parlour  Domsie's 
tongue  was  loosed,  and  he  lifted  up  his  voice 
and  sang  the  victory  of  Geordie  Hoo. 

"  It's  ten  years  ago  at  the  brak  up  o'  the 
winter  ye  brought  him  down  to  me,  Mrs.  Hoo, 
and  ye  said  at  the  schule-hoose  door,  '  Dinna 
be  hard  on  him,  Maister  Jamieson,  he's   my 


HOW  WE  CARRIED  THE  NEWS      25 

only  bairn,  and  a  wee  thingie  quiet.'  Div 
ye  mind  what  I  said,  'There's  something 
ahint  that  face,'  and  my  heart  warmed  to 
George  that  hour.  Two  years  after  the  Doctor 
examined  the  schule,  and  he  looks  at  George. 
'  That's  a  likely  lad,  Dominie.  What  think 
ye  ?  '  And  he  was  only  eight  years  auld,  and 
no  big  for  his  size.  '  Doctor,  I  daurna  pro- 
phesy till  we  turn  him  into  the  Latin,  but  a've 
my  thoughts.'  So  I  had  a'  the  time,  but  I 
never  boasted,  na,  na,  that's  dangerous.  Didna 
I  say,  '  Ye  hev  a  promisin'  laddie,  Whinnie,'  ae 
day  in  the  market  ?  " 

"  It's  a  fac',"  said  Whinnie,  "  it  wes  the  day 
I  bocht  the  white  coo."    But  Domsie  swept  on. 

"  The  first  year  o'  Latin  was  enough  for  me. 
He  juist  nippet  up  his  verbs.  Caesar  could  na 
keep  him  going ;  he  wes  into  Virgil  afore  he 
wes  eleven,  and  the  Latin  prose,  man,  as  sure 
as  a'm  living,  it  tasted  o'  Cicero  frae  the  begin- 
ning." 

Whinnie  wagged  his  head  in  amazement. 

"  It  was  the  verra  nicht  o'  the  Latin  prose  I 
cam  up  to  speak  aboot  the  college,  and  ye 
thocht  Geordie  hed  been  playing  truant." 


26  DOMSIE 

Whinnie  laughed  uproariously,  but  Domsie 
heeded  not. 

"  It  was  awfu'  work  the  next  twa  years,  but 
the  Doctor  stood  in  weel  wi'  the  Greek.  Ye 
mind  hoo  Geordie  tramped  ower  the  muir  to  the 
manse  thro'  the  weet  an*  the  snaw,  and  there 
wes  aye  dry  stockings  for  him  in  the  kitchen 
afore  he  had  his  Greek  in  the  Doctor's  study." 

"  And  a  warm  drink  tae,"  put  in  Marget, 
"  and  that's  the  window  I  pit  the  licht  in  to 
guide  him  hame  in  the  dark  winter  nichts,  and 
mony  a  time  when  the  sleet  played  swish  on 

the   glass   I   wes   near   wishin' "      Domsie 

waved  his  hand. 

"  But  that's  dune  wi'  noo,  and  he  was  worth 
a*  the  toil  and  trouble.  First  in  the  Humanity 
and  first  in  the  Greek,  sweepit  the  field,  Lord 
preserve  us.  A'  can  hardly  believe  it.  Eh,  I 
was  feared  o'  thae  High  School  lads.  They 
had  terrible  advantages.  Maisters  frae  Eng- 
land, and  tutors,  and  whatna',  but  Drumtochty 
carried  aff  the  croon.  It'll  be  fine  reading  in 
the  papers— 

Humanity. — First  Prize   (and    Medal),  George 
Howe,  Drumtochty,  Perthshire* 


HOW  WE   CARRIED   THE   NEWS      27 

Greek. — First  Prize  (and  Medal),  George 
Howe,  Drumtochty,  Perthshire." 

"  It'll  be  michty,"  cried  Whinnie,  now  fairly 
on  fire. 

"  And  Philosophy  and  Mathematics  to  come. 
Geordie's  no  bad  at  Euclid.  I'll  wager  he'll  be 
first  there  too.  When  he  gets  his  hand  in 
there's  naething  he's  no  fit  for  wi'  time.  My 
ain  laddie — and  the  Doctor's — we  maunna  for- 
get him — it's  his  classics  he  hes,  every  book  o7 
them.  The  Doctor  'ill  be  lifted  when  he 
comes  back  on  Saturday.  A'm  thinkin'  we'll 
hear  o't  on  Sabbath.  And  Drumsheugh,  he'll 
be  naither  to  had  nor  bind  in  the  kirk-yard. 
As  for  me,  I  wad  na  change  places  wi'  the 
Duke  o'  Athole,"  and  Domsie  shook  the  table 
to  its  foundation. 

Then  he  awoke,  as  from  a  dream,  and  the 
shame  of  boasting  that  shuts  the  mouths  of 
self-respecting  Scots  descended  upon  him. 

"  But  this  is  fair  nonsense.  Ye'll  no  mind 
the  havers  o'  an  auld  dominie." 

He  fell  back  on  a  recent  roup,  and  would  not 
again  break  away,  although  sorely  tempted  by 
certain  of  Whinnie's  speculations. 


28  DOMSIE 

When  I  saw  him  last,  his  coat-tails  were  wav- 
ing victoriously  as  he  leaped  a  dyke  on  his  way 
to  tell  our  Drumtochty  Maecenas  that  the 
judges  knew  their  business. 


A    CORNER    OF    THE    GARDEN 


Ill 

IN   MARGET'S   GARDEN 

The  cart  track  to  Whinnie  Knowe  was  com* 
manded  by  a  gable  window,  and  Whinnie 
boasted  that  Marget  had  never  been  taken  un- 
awares. Tramps,  finding  every  door  locked, 
and  no  sign  of  life  anywhere,  used  to  express 
their  mind  in  the  "  close,"  and  return  by  the 
way  they  came,  while  ladies  from  Kildrummie, 
fearful  lest  they  should  put  Mrs.  Howe  out, 
were  met  at  the  garden  gate  by  Marget  in  her 
Sabbath  dress,  and  brought  into  a  set  tea  as  if 
they  had  been  invited  weeks  before. 

Whinnie  gloried  most  in  the  discomfiture  of 
the  Tory  agent,  who  had  vainly  hoped  to 
coerce  him  in  the  stack  yard  without  Marget 's 
presence,  as  her  intellectual  contempt  for  the 
Conservative  party  knew  no  bounds. 


30  DOMSIE 

"  Sail  she  saw  him  slip  aff  the  road  afore  the 
last  stile,  and  wheep  roond  the  fit  o'  the  gair- 
den  wa'  like  a  tod  (fox)  aifter  the  chickens. 

"  •  It's  a  het  day,  Maister  Anderson/  says 
Marget  frae  the  gairden,  lookin*  doon  on  him 
as  calm  as  ye  like.  '  Yir  surely  no  gaein'  to 
pass  oor  hoose  without  a  gless  o'  milk  ?  p 

"  Wud  ye  believe  it,  he  wes  that  upset  he 
left  withoot  savin*  '  vote,'  and  Drumsheugh 
telt  me  next  market  that  his  langidge  aifter- 
wards  cudna  be  printed." 

When  George  came  home  for  the  last  time, 
Marget  went  back  and  forward  all  afternoon 
from  his  bedroom  to  the  window,  and  hid  her- 
self beneath  the  laburnum  to  see  his  face  as 
the  cart  stood  before  the  stile.  It  told  her 
plain  what  she  had  feared,  and  Marget  passed 
through  her  Gethsemane  with  the  gold  blos- 
soms falling  on  her  face.  When  their  eyes 
met,  and  before  she  helped  him  down,  mother 
and  son  understood. 

"  Ye  mind  what  I  told  ye,  o*  the  Greek 
mothers,  the  day  I  left.  Weel,  I  wud  hae 
liked  to  have  carried  my  shield,  but  it  wasna  to 
be,  so  I've  come  home  on  it."    As  they  went 


IN   MARGET'S  GARDEN  31 

slowly  up  the  garden  walk,  "  I've  got  my  de- 
gree, a  double  first,  mathematics  and  clas- 
sics." 

"  Ye've  been  a  gude  soldier,  George,  and 
faithfu'." 

"  Unto  death,  a'm  dootin,  mother." 

"  Na,"  said  Marget,  "  unto  life." 

Drumtochty  was  not  a  heartening  place  in 
sickness,  and  Marget,  who  did  not  think  our 
thoughts,  endured  much  consolation  at  her 
neighbour's  hands.  It  is  said  that  in  cities 
visitors  congratulate  a  patient  on  his  good 
looks,  and  deluge  his  family  with  instances  of 
recovery.  This  would  have  seemed  to  us  shal- 
low and  unfeeling,  besides  being  a  "temptin* 
o'  Providence,"  which  might  not  have  intended 
to  go  to  extremities,  but  on  a  challenge  of  this 
kind  had  no  alternative.  Sickness  was  regard- 
ed as  a  distinction  tempered  with  judgment, 
and  favoured  people  found  it  difficult  to  be 
humble.  I  always  thought  more  of  Peter  Mac- 
intosh when  the  mysterious  "tribble"  that 
needed  the  Perth  doctor  made  no  difference  in 
his  manner,  and  he  passed  his  snuff  box  across 
the  seat  before  the  long  prayer  as  usual,  but  in 


32  DOMSIE 

this  indifference  to  privileges  Peter  was  excep- 
tional. 

You  could  never  meet  Kirsty  Stewart  on 
equal  terms,  although  she  was  quite  affable  to 
any  one  who  knew  his  place. 

"  Ay,"  she  said,  on  my  respectful  allusion 
to  her  experience,  "  aVe  seen  mair  than 
most.  It  doesna  become  me  to  boast,  but 
tho'  I  say  it  as  sudna,  I  hae  buried  a*  my  ain 
fouk." 

Kirsty  had  a  "  way"  in  sick  visiting,  consist- 
ing in  a  certain  cadence  of  the  voice  and  ar- 
rangement of  the  face,  which  was  felt  to  be 
soothing  and  complimentary. 

"  Yir  aboot  again,  a'm  glad  to  see,"  to  me 
after  my  accident,  "  but  yir  no  dune  wi'  that 
leg ;  na,  na,  Jeems,  that  was  ma  second  son, 
scrapit  his  shin  aince,  tho'  no  so  bad  as  ye've 
dune  a'm  hearing  (for  I  had  denied  Kirsty  the 
courtesy  of  an  inspection).  It's  sax  year  syne 
noo,  and  he  got  up  and  wes  traivellin'  fell 
hearty  like  yersel.  But  he  begood  to  dwam 
(sicken)  in  the  end  of  the  year,  and  soughed 
awa'  in  the  spring.  Ay,  ay,  when  tribble 
comes  ye  never  ken  hoo  it  'ill  end.    A'  thocht 


IN   MARGET'S   GARDEN  33 

I  wud  come  up  and  speir  for  ye.  A  body 
needs  comfort  gin  he's  sober  (ill)." 

When  I  found  George  wrapped  in  his  plaid 
beside  the  brier  bush  whose  roses  were  no 
whiter  than  his  cheeks,  Kirsty  was  already  in- 
stalled as  comforter  in  the  parlour,  and  her 
drone  came  through  the  open  window. 

"Ay,  ay,  Marget,  sae  it's  come  to  this. 
Weel,  we  daurna  complain,  ye  ken.  Be  thank- 
fu'  ye  haena  lost  your  man  and  five  sons,  be- 
sides  twa  sisters  and  a  brither,  no  to  mention 
cousins.  That  wud  be  something  to  speak 
aboot,  and  Losh  keep's,  there's  nae  saying  but 
he  micht  hang  on  a  whilie.  Ay,  ay,  it's  a  sair 
blow  aifter  a'  that  wes  in  the  papers.  I  wes 
feared  when  I  heard  o'  the  papers  ;  '  Lat  weel 
alane,'  says  I  to  the  Dominie  ;  '  ye  'ill  bring  a 
judgment  on  the  laddie  wi'  yir  blawing.'  But 
ye  micht  as  weel  hae  spoken  to  the  hills. 
Domsie's  a  thraun  body  at  the  best,  and  he 
was  clean  infatuat'  wi'  George.  Ay,  ay,  it's  an 
awfu'  lesson,  Marget,  no  to  mak'  idols  o*  our 
bairns,  for  that's  naethin'  else  than  provokin'  the 
Almichty." 

It  was  at  this  point  that  Marget  gave  way 


34  DOMSIE 

and  scandalized  Drumtochty,  which  held  that 
obtrusive  prosperity  was  an  irresistible  provo- 
cation to  the  higher  powers,  and  that  a  skilful 
depreciation  of  our  children  was  a  policy  of 
safety. 

"Did  ye  say  the  Almichty?  I'm  thinkin' 
that's  ower  grand  a  name  for  your  God,  Kirsty. 
What  wud  ye  think  o'  a  faither  that  brocht 
hame  some  bonnie  thing  frae  the  fair  for  ane 
o'  his  bairns,  and  when  the  puir  bairn  wes 
pleased  wi'  it  tore  it  oot  o'  his  hand  and  flung 
it  into  the  fire  ?  Eh,  woman,  he  wud  be  a 
meeserable  cankered  jealous  body.  Kirsty, 
wumman,  when  the  Almichty  sees  a  mither 
bound  up  in  her  laddie,  I  tell  ye  He  is  saif 
pleased  in  His  heaven,  for  mind  ye  boo  He 
loved  His  ain  Son.  Besides,  a'm  judgin'  that 
nane  o'  us  can  love  anither  withoot  lovin' 
Him,  or  hurt  anither  withoot  hurtin'  Him. 

"  Oh,  I  ken  weel  that  George  is  gaein'  to 
leave  us ;  but  it's  no  because  the  Almichty  is 
jealous  o'  him  or  me,  no  likely.  It  cam*  to  me 
last  nicht  that  He  needs  my  laddie  for  some 
grand  wark  in  the  ither  world,  and  that's  hoo 
George  has  his  bukes  brocht  oot  tae  the  gap 


IN   MARGET'S  GARDEN  35 

den  and  studies  a'  the  day.  He  wants  to  be 
ready  for  his  kingdom,  just  as  he  trachled  in 
the  bit  schule  o'  Drumtochty  for  Edinboro\  I 
hoped  he  wud  hae  been  a  minister  o'  Christ's 
Gospel  here,  but  he  'ill  be  judge  over  many 
cities  yonder.  A'm  no  denyin',  Kirsty,  that 
it's  a  trial,  but  I  hae  licht  on  it,  and  naethin' 
but  gude  thochts  o'  the  Almichty." 

Drumtochty  understood  that  Kirsty  had 
dealt  faithfully  with  Marget  for  pride  and  pre- 
sumption, but  all  we  heard  was,  "  Losh  keep 

» »» 
us  a . 

When  Marget  came  out  and  sat  down  beside 
her  son,  her  face  was  shining.  Then  she  saw 
the  open  window. 

"  I  didna  ken." 

"  Never  mind,  mither,  there's  nae  secrets 
atween  us,  and  it  gar'd  my  heart  leap  to  hear 
ye  speak  up  like  yon  for  God,  and  to  know  yir 
content.  Div  ye  mind  the  nicht  I  called  for 
ye,  mother,  and  ye  gave  me  the  Gospel  aboot 
God?"   - 

Marget  slipped  her  hand  into  George's,  and 
he  let  his  head  rest  on  her  shoulder.  The  like- 
ness  flashed   upon   me   in   that   moment,  the 


36  DOMSIE 

earnest  deep-set  grey  eyes,  the  clean-cut  firm 
jaw,  and  the  tender  mobile  lips,  that  blend  of 
apparent  austerity  and  underlying  romance 
that  make  the  pathos  of  a  Scottish  face. 

"  There  had  been  a  Revival  man,  here," 
George  explained  to  me,  "  and  he  was  preach- 
ing on  hell.  As  it  grew  dark  a  candle  was 
lighted,  and  I  can  still  see  his  face  as  in  a  pic- 
ture, a  hard-visaged  man.  He  looked  down  at 
us  laddies  in  the  front,  and  asked  us  if  we  knew 
what  like  hell  was.  By  this  time  we  were  that 
terrified  none  of  us  could  speak,  but  I  whisper- 
ed '  No/ 

"Then  he  rolled  up  a  piece  of  paper  and 
held  it  in  the  flame,  and  we  saw  it  burn  and 
glow  and  shrivel  up  and  fall  in  black  dust. 

"  '  Think/  said  he,  and  he  leaned  over  the 
desk,  and  spoke  in  a  gruesome  whisper  which 
made  the  cold  run  down  our  backs,  '  that  yon 
paper  was  your  finger,  one  finger  only  of  your 
hand,  and  it  burned  like  that  for  ever  and  ever, 
and  think  of  your  hand  and  your  arm  and  your 
whole  body  all  on  fire,  never  to  go  out.'  We 
shuddered  that  you  might  have  heard  the  form 
creak.     ■  That  is  hell,  and  that  is  where  ony 


IN    MARGET'S   GARDEN  37 

laddie  will  go  who  does  not  repent  and  be- 
lieve.' 

"  It  was  like  Dante's  Inferno,  and  I  dared 
not  take  my  eyes  off  his  face.  He  blew  out 
the  candle,  and  we  crept  to  the  door  trembling, 
not  able  to  say  one  word. 

"  That  night  I  could  not  sleep,  for  I  thought 
I  might  be  in  the  fire  before  morning.  It  was 
harvest  time,  and  the  moon  was  filling  the 
room  with  cold  clear  light.  From  my  bed  I 
could  see  the  stooks  standing  in  rows  upon  the 
field,  and  it  seemed  like  the  judgment  day. 

"  I  was  only  a  wee  laddie,  and  I  did  what  we 
all  do  in  trouble,  I  cried  for  my  mother. 

"  Ye  hae  na  forgotten,  mither,  the  fricht  that 
was  on  me  that  nicht." 

"  Never,"  said  Marget,  "  and  never  can  ;  it's 
hard  wark  for  me  to  keep  frae  hating  that 
man,  dead  or  alive.  Geordie  gripped  me  wi' 
baith  his  wee  airms  round  my  neck,  and  he 
cries  over  and  over  and  over  again,  '  Is  yon 
God?'" 

"  Ay,  and  ye  kissed  me,  mither,  and  ye  said 
(it's  like  yesterday),  *  Yir  safe  with  me,'  and  ye 
telt  me  that  God  micht  punish  me  to  mak  me 


38  DOMSIE 

better  if  I  was  bad,  but  that  he  wud  never  tor- 
ture ony  puir  soul,  for  that  cud  dae  nae  guid, 
and  was  the  Devil's  wark.     Ye  asked  me  : 

"  'Am  I  a  guid  mother  tae  ye  ?  '  and  when  I 
could  dae  naethin'  but  hold,  ye  said,  '  Be  sure 
God  maun  be  a  hantle  kinder.' 

"  The  truth  came  to  me  as  with  a  flicker,  and 
I  cuddled  down  into  my  bed,  and  fell  asleep  in 
His  love  as  in  my  mother's  arms. 

"  Mither,"  and  George  lifted  up  his  head, 
u  that  was  my  conversion,  and,  mither  dear,  I 
hae  longed  a'  thro'  thae  college  studies  for  the 
day  when  ma  mooth  wud  be  opened  wi'  this 
evangel." 

Marget's  was  an  old-fashioned  garden,  with 
pinks  and  daisies  and  forget-me-nots,  with 
sweet-scented  wall-flower  and  thyme  and  moss 
roses,  where  nature  had  her  way,  and  gracious 
thoughts  could  visit  one  without  any  jarring 
note.  As  George's  voice  softened  to  the  close, 
I  caught  her  saying,  "  His  servants  shall  see 
His  face,"  and  the  peace  of  Paradise  fell  upon 
us  in  the  shadow  of  death. 

The  night  before  the  end  George  was  carried 
out  to  his  corner,   and   Domsie,   whose  heart 


IN   MARGET'S   GARDEN  39 

was  nigh  unto  the  breaking,  sat  with  him  the 
afternoon.  They  used  to  fight  the  College 
battles  over  again,  with  their  favourite  classics 
beside  them,  but  this  time  none  of  them  spoke 
of  books.  Marget  was  moving  about  the  gar- 
den, and  she  told  me  that  George  looked  at 
Domsie  wistfully,  as  if  he  had  something  to 
say  and  knew  not  how  to  do  it. 

After  a  while  he  took  a  book  from  below  his 
pillow,  and  began,  like  one  thinking  over  his 
words  : 

"  Maister  Jamieson,  ye  hae  been  a  gude 
freend  tae  me,  the  best  I  ever  hed  aifter  my 
mither  and  faither.  Wull  ye  tak  this  buik  for  a 
keepsake  o'  yir  grateful  scholar?  It's  a  Latin 
1  Imitation,'  Dominie,  and  it's  bonnie  printin*. 
Ye  mind  hoo  ye  gave  me  yir  ain  Virgil,  and 
said  he  was  a  kind  o'  Pagan  sanct.  Noo  here 
is  my  sanct,  and  div  ye  ken  I've  often  thocht 
Virgil  saw  His  day  afar  off,  and  was  glad. 
Wull   ye   read  it,  Dominie,  for  my  sake,  and 

maybe  ye  'ill  come   to  see "  and   George 

could  not  find  words  for  more. 

But  Domsie  understood.  "  Ma  laddie,  ma 
laddie,   that   I   luve   better  than   onythin'  on 


40  DOMSIE 

earth,  I'll  read  it  till  I  die,  and,  George,  I'll  tell 
ye  what  livin'  man  does  na  ken.  When  I  was 
your  verra  age  I  had  a  cruel  trial,  and  ma  heart 
was  turned  frae  faith.  The  classics  hae  been 
my  bible,  though  I  said  naethin'  to  ony  man 
against  Christ.  He  aye  seemed  beyond  man, 
and  noo  the  veesion  o*  Him  has  come  to  me 
in  this  gairden.  Laddie,  ye  hae  dune  far  mair 
for  me  than  I  ever  did  for  you.  Wull  ye 
mak  a  prayer  for  yir  auld  dominie  afore  we 
pairt  ?  " 

There  was  a  thrush  singing  in  the  birches 
and  a  sound  of  bees  in  the  air,  when  George 
prayed  in  a  low,  soft  voice,  with  a  little  break 
in  it. 

"  Lord  Jesus,  remember  my  dear  maister,  for 
he's  been  a  kind  freend  to  me  and  mony  a  puir 
laddie  in  Drumtochty.  Bind  up  his  sair  heart 
and  give  him  licht  at  eventide,  and  may  the 
maister  and  his  scholars  meet  some  mornin* 
where  the  schule  never  skails,  in  the  kingdom 
o'  oor  Father." 

Twice  Domsie  said  Amen,  and  it  seemed  as 
the  voice  of  another  man,  and  then  he  kissed 


IN   MARGET'S    GARDEN  41 

George  upon  the  forehead  ;  but  what  they  said 
Marget  did  not  wish  to  hear. 

When  he  passed  out  at  the  garden  gate,  the 
westering  sun  was  shining  golden,  and  the  face 
of  Domsie  was  like  unto  that  of  a  little  child. 


IV 

A   SCHOLAR'S   FUNERAL 

Drumtochty  never  acquitted  itself  with  credit 
at  a  marriage,  having  no  natural  aptitude  for 
gaiety,  and  being  haunted  with  anxiety  lest 
any  "  hicht "  should  end  in  a  "  howe,"  but  the 
parish  had  a  genius  for  funerals.  It  was  long 
mentioned  with  a  just  sense  of  merit  that  an 
English  undertaker,  chancing  on  a  "  beerial " 
with  us,  had  no  limits  to  his  admiration.  He 
had  been  disheartened  to  despair  all  his  life  by 
the  ghastly  efforts  of  chirpy  little  Southerners 
to  look  solemn  on  occasion,  but  his  dreams 
were  satisfied  at  the  sight  of  men  like  Drums- 
heugh  and  Hillocks  in  their  Sabbath  blacks. 
Nature  lent  an  initial  advantage  in  face,  but  it 
was  an  instinct  in  the  blood  that  brought  our 
manner  to  perfection,  and  nothing  could  be 
more  awful  than  a  group  of  those  austere  fig- 


A   SCHOLAR'S   FUNERAL  43 

ures,  each  man  gazing  into  vacancy  without  a 
trace  of  expression,  and  refusing  to  recognise 
his  nearest  neighbour  by  word  or  look.  Drum- 
tochty  gave  itself  to  a  "  beerial  "  with  chastened 
satisfaction,  partly  because  it  lay  near  to  the 
sorrow  of  things,  and  partly  because  there  was 
nothing  of  speculation  in  it.  "  Ye  can  hae  little 
rael  pleesure  in  a  merrige,"  explained  our 
gravedigger,  in  whom  the  serious  side  had  been 
perhaps  abnormally  developed,  "  for  ye  never 
ken  hoo  it  will  end ;  but  there's  nae  risk  about 
a  i  beerial.'  " 

It  came  with  a  shock  upon  townsmen  that 
the  ceremony  began  with  a  "  service  o'  speerits," 
and  that  an  attempt  of  the  Free  Kirk  minister 
to  replace  this  by  the  reading  of  Scripture  was 
resisted  as  an  "  innovation."  Yet  every  one 
admitted  that  the  seriousness  of  Drumtochty 
pervaded  and  sanctified  this  function.  A  tray 
of  glasses  was  placed  on  a  table  with  great 
solemnity  by  the  "  wricht,"  who  made  no  sign 
and  invited  none.  You  might  have  supposed 
that  the  circumstance  had  escaped  the  notice 
of  the  company,  so  abstracted  and  unconscious 
was  their  manner,  had  it  not  been  that   two 


44  DOMSIE 

graven  images  a  minute  later  are  standing  at 
the  table. 

"  Ye  'ill  taste,  Tammas,"  with  settled  melan- 
choly. 

"  Na,  na ;  Fve  nae  incleenation  the  day ;  it's 
an  awfu'  dispensation  this,  Jeems.  She  wud  be 
barely  saxty." 

"  Ay,  ay,  but  we  maun  keep  up  the  body  sae 
lang  as  we're  here,  Tammas." 

"  Weel,  puttin'  it  that  way,  a'm  not  sayin'  but 
yir  richt,"  yielding  unwillingly  to  the  force  of 
circumstance. 

"We're  here  the  day  and  there  the  morn, 
Tammas.  She  wes  a  fine  wumman — Mistress 
Stirton — a  weel-livin'  wumman ;  this  'ill  be  a 
blend,  a'm  thinkin'." 

"She  slippit  aff  sudden  in  the  end;  a'm 
judgin'  it's  frae  the  Muirtown  grocer ;  but  a 
body  canna  discreeminate  on  a  day  like  this." 

Before  the  glasses  are  empty  all  idea  of 
drinking  is  dissipated,  and  one  has  a  vague  im- 
pression that  he  is  at  church. 

It  was  George  Howe's  funeral  that  broke  the 
custom  and  closed  the  "  service."  When  I 
came   into   the   garden  where  the  neighbours 


A   SCHOLAR'S   FUNERAL  45 

were  gathered,  the  "wricht "  was  removing  his 
tray,  and  not  a  glass  had  been  touched.  Then 
I  knew  that  Drumtochty  had  a  sense  of  the 
fitness  of  things,  and  was  stirred  to  its  depths. 

"  Ye  saw  the  wricht  carry  in  his  tray,"  said 
Drumsheugh,  as  we  went  home  from  the  kirk- 
yard.  "  Weel,  yon's  the  last  sicht  o't  ye  'ill 
get,  or  a'm  no  Drumsheugh.  I've  nae  objec- 
tion ma'sel  to  a  nee'bur  tastin'  at  a  funeral,  a* 
the  mair  if  he's  come  frae  the  upper  end  o'  the 
pairish,  and  ye  ken  I  dinna  hold  wi'  thae  teetotal 
fouk.  A'm  ower  auld  in  the  horn  to  change 
noo.  But  there's  times  and  seasons,  as  the 
gude  Buik  says,  and  it  wud  hae  been  an  awfu* 
like  business  tae  luik  at  a  gless  in  Marget's 
gairden,  and  puir  Domsie  standing  in  ahent  the 
brier  bnsh  as  if  he  cud  never  lift  his  heid  again. 
Ye  may  get  shairper  fouk  in  the  uptak',  but  ye 
'ill  no  get  a  pairish  with  better  feelin's.  It  'ill 
be  a  kind  o'  sateesfaction  tae  Marget  when  she 
hears  o't.  She  was  aye  against  tastin',  and 
a'm  judgin'  her  tribble  has  ended  it  at  beerials." 

"  Man,  it  was  hard  on  some  o*  yon  lads  the 
day,  but  there  wesna  ane  o'  them  made  a 
mudge.     I  keepit  my  eye  on    Posty,  but   he 


46  DOMSIE 

never  lookit  the  way  it  wes.     He's  a  drouthy 
body,  but  he  hes  his  feelin's,  hes  Posty." 

Before  the  Doctor  began  the  prayer,  Whin- 
nie  took  me  up  to  the  room. 

"There's  twa  o'  Geordie's  College  freends 
with  Marget,  grand  scholars  a'm  telt,  and 
there's  anither  I  canna  weel  mak  oot.  He's 
terrible  cast  doon,  and  Marget  speaks  as  if  she 
kent  him." 

It  was  a  low-roofed  room,  with  a  box  bed 
and  some  pieces  of  humble  furniture,  fit  only 
for  a  labouring  man.  But  the  choice  treasures 
of  Greece  and  Rome  lay  on  the  table,  and  on  a 
shelf  beside  the  bed  College  prizes  and  medals, 
while  everywhere  were  the  roses  he  loved. 
His  peasant  mother  stood  beside  the  body  of 
her  scholar  son,  whose  hopes  and  thoughts  she 
had  shared,  and  through  the  window  came  the 
bleating  of  distant  sheep.  It  was  the  idyll  of 
Scottish  University  life. 

George's  friends  were  characteristic  men,  each 
of  his  own  type,  and  could  only  have  met  in 
the  commonwealth  of  letters.  One  was  of  an 
ancient  Scottish  house  which  had  fought  (of 
Mary  against  the  Lords  of  the  Congregatioa 


A   SCHOLAR'S   FUNERAL  47 

followed  Prince  Charlie  to  Culloden,  and  were 
High  Church  and  Tory  to  the  last  drop  of  their 
blood.  Ludovic  Gordon  left  Harrow  with  the 
reputation  of  a  classic,  and  had  expected  to  be 
first  at  Edinboro'.  It  was  Gordon,  in  fact, 
that  Domsie  feared  in  the  great  war,  but  he 
proved  second  to  Marget's  son,  and  being  of 
the  breed  of  Prince  Jonathan,  which  is  the 
same  the  world  over,  he  came  to  love  our 
David  as  his  own  soul.  The  other,  a  dark  little 
man,  with  a  quick,  fiery  eye,  was  a  Western 
Celt,  who  had  worried  his  way  from  a  fishing 
croft  in  Barra  to  be  an  easy  first  in  Philosophy 
at  Edinboro',  and  George  and  Ronald  Maclean 
were  as  brothers  because  there  is  nothing  so 
different  as  Scottish  and  Highland  blood. 

"  Maister  Gordon,"  said  Marget,  "  this  is 
George's  Homer,  and  he  bade  me  tell  you  that 
he  coonted  yir  freendship  ain  o'  the  gifts  o* 
God." 

For  a  brief  space  Gordon  was  silent,  and, 
when  he  spoke,  his  voice  sounded  strange  in 
that  room. 

"  Your  son  was  the  finest  scholar  of  my  time, 
and  a  very  perfect  gentleman.    He  was  also  my 


48  DOMSIE 

true  friend,  and  I  pray  God  to  console  his 
mother."  And  Ludovic  Gordon  bowed  low 
over  Marget's  worn  hand  as  if  she  had  been  a 
queen. 

Marget  lifted  Plato,  and  it  seemed  to  me 
that  day  as  if  the  dignity  of  our  Lady  of  Sor 
rows  had  fallen  upon  her. 

11  This  is  the  buik  George  chose  for  you, 
Maister  Maclean,  for  he  aye  said  to  me  ye  hed 
been  a  prophet  and  shown  him  mony  deep 
things." 

The  tears  sprang  to  the  Celt's  eyes. 

"  It  wass  like  him  to  make  all  other  men 
better  than  himself,"  with  the  soft,  sad  High- 
land accent ;  "  and  a  proud  woman  you  are  to 
hef  been  his  mother." 

The  third  man  waited  at  the  window  till 
the  scholars  left,  and  then  I  saw  he  was  none 
of  that  kind,  but  one  who  had  been  a  slave  of 
sin  and  now  was  free. 

"Andra  Chaumers,  George  wished  ye  tae 
hev  his  Bible,  and  he  expecks  ye  tae  keep  the 
tryst." 

"  God  helping  me,  I  will,"  said  Chalmers, 
hoarsely;    and   from   the   garden   ascended    a 


A   SCHOLAR'S   FUNERAL  49 

voice,  "  O  God,  who  art  a  very  present  help 
in  trouble." 

The  Doctor's  funeral  prayer  was  one  of  the 
glories  of  the  parish,  compelling  even  the  Free 
Kirk  to  reluctant  admiration,  although  they 
hinted  that  its  excellence  was  rather  of  the  let- 
ter than  the  spirit,  and  regarded  its  indiscrimi- 
nate charity  with  suspicion.  It  opened  with  a 
series  of  extracts  from  the  Psalms,  relieved  by 
two  excursions  into  the  minor  prophets,  and 
led  up  to  a  sonorous  recitation  of  the  problem 
of  immortality  from  Job,  with  its  triumphant 
solution  in  the  peroration  of  the  fifteenth  chap- 
ter of  1  Corinthians.  Drumtochty  men  held 
their  breath  till  the  Doctor  reached  the  crest 
of  the  hill  (Hillocks  disgraced  himself  once  by 
dropping  his  staff  at  the  very  moment  when 
the  Doctor  was  passing  from  Job  to  Paul),  and 
then  we  relaxed  while  the  Doctor  descended 
to  local  detail.  It  was  understood  that  it  took 
twenty  years  to  bring  the  body  of  this  prayer 
to  perfection,  and  any  change  would  have  been 
detected  and  resented. 

The  Doctor  made  a  good  start,  and  had  al- 
ready sighted  Job,  when  he  was  carried  out  of 
T) 


50  DOMSIE 

his  course  by  a  sudden  current,  and  began  to 
speak  to  God  about  Marget  and  her  son,  after 
a  very  simple  fashion  that  brought  a  lump  to 
the  throat,  till  at  last,  as  I  imagine,  the  sight 
of  the  laddie  working  at  his  Greek  in  the  study 
of  a  winter  night  came  up  before  him,  and  the 
remnants  of  the  great  prayer  melted  like  an 
iceberg  in  the  Gulf  Stream. 

"  Lord,  hae  peety  upon  us,  for  we  a'  luved 
him,  and  we  were  a*  prood  o'  him." 

After  the  Doctor  said  "  Amen"  with  maj- 
esty, one  used  to  look  at  his  neighbour,  and 
the  other  would  shut  his  eyes  and  shake  his 
head,  meaning,  "  There's  no  use  asking  me, 
for  it  simply  can't  be  better  done  by  living 
man."  This  time  no  one  remembered  his 
neighbour,  because  every  eye  was  fixed  on  the 
Doctor.  Drumtochty  was  identifying  its  new 
minister. 

"  It  may  be  that  I  hef  judged  him  hardly," 
said  Lachlan  Campbell,  one  of  the  Free  Kirk 
Highlanders,  and  our  St.  Dominic.  "  I  shall 
never  again  deny  that  the  root  of  the  matter 
is  in  the  man,  although  much  choked  with  the 
tares  of  worldliness  and  Arminianism." 


A  SCHOLAR'S   FUNERAL  51 

"He  is  a  goot  man,  Lachlan,"  replied  Donald 
Menzies,  another  Celt,  and  he  was  our  St.  Fran- 
cis, for  "  every  one  that  loveth  is  born  of  God." 

There  was  no  hearse  in  Drumtochty,  and 
we  carried  our  dead  by  relays  of  four,  who 
waded  every  stream  unless  more  than  knee 
deep,  the  rest  following  in  straggling,  pictur- 
esque procession  over  the  moor  and  across  the 
stepping  stones.  Before  we  started,  Marget 
came  out  and  arranged  George's  white  silken 
hood  upon  the  coffin  with  roses  in  its  folds. 

She  swept  us  into  one  brief  flush  of  grati- 
tude, from  Domsie  to  Posty. 

"  Neeburs,  ye  were  a'  his  freends,  and  he 
wanted  ye  tae  ken  hoo  yir  trust  wes  mickle 
help  tae  him  in  his  battle." 

There  was  a  stir  within  us,  and  it  came  to 
birth  in  Drumsheugh  of  all  men  : 

"  Marget  Hoo,  this  is  no  the  day  for  mony 
words,  but  there's  juist  ae  heart  in  Drumtochty, 
and  it's  sair." 

No  one  spoke  to  Domsie  as  we  went  down 
the  cart  track,  with  the  ripe  corn  standing  on 
either  side,  but  he  beckoned  Chalmers  to  walk 
with  him. 


52  DOMSIE 

"  Ye  hae  heard  him  speak  o'  me,  then,  Mais- 
ter  Jamieson?" 

"  Ay,  oftentimes,  and  he  said  once  that  ye 
were  hard  driven,  but  that  ye  had  trampled 
Satan  under  yir  feet." 

"  He  didna  tell  ye  all,  for  if  it  hadna  been 
for  George  Howe  I  wudna  been  worth  callin'  a 
man  this  day.  One  night  when  he  was  workin' 
hard  for  his  honours  examination  and  his  dis- 
ease was  heavy  upon  him,  puir  fellow,  he 
sought  me  oot  where  I  was,  and  wouldna  leave 
till  I  cam*  wi  him. 

"  '  Go  home,'  I  said,  '  Howe  ;  it's  death  for 
ye  to  be  oot  in  this  sleet  and  cold.  Why  not 
leave  me  to  lie  in  the  bed  I  hae  made  ? ' 

"  He  took  me  by  the  arm  into  a  passage.  I 
see  the  gaslicht  on  his  white  face,  and  the  shin- 
ing o'  his  eyes. 

"  '  Because  I  have  a  mother  .     .     .     / 

"  Dominie,  he  pulled  me  oot  o'  hell." 

"  Me  tae,  Andra,  but  no  your  hell.  Ye  mind 
the  Roman  Triumph,  when  a  general  cam* 
hame  wi*  his  spoils.  Laddie,  we're  the  captives 
that  go  with  his  chariot  up  the  Capitol." 

Donald  Menzies  was  a  man  of  moods,  and 


A   SCHOLAR'S   FUNERAL  53 

the  Doctor's  prayer  had  loosed  his  imagination 
so  that  he  saw  visions. 

"  Look,"  said  he,  as  we  stood  on  a  ridge,  "  I 
hef  seen  it  before  in  the  book  of  Joshua." 

Below  the  bearers  had  crossed  a  burn  on 
foot,  and  were  ascending  the  slope  where  an 
open  space  of  deep  green  was  fringed  with  pur- 
ple heather. 

"  The  ark  hass  gone  over  Jordan,  and  George 
will  have  come  into  the  Land  of  Promise." 

The  September  sunshine  glinted  on  the  white 
silk  George  won  with  his  blood,  and  fell  like  a 
benediction  on  the  two  figures  that  climbed  the 
hard  ascent  close  after  the  man  they  loved. 

Strangers  do  not  touch  our  dead  in  Drum, 
tochty,  but  the  eight  of  nearest  blood  lower 
the  body  into  the  grave.  The  order  of  prec* 
edence  is  keenly  calculated,  and  the  loss  of  a 
merited  cord  can  never  be  forgiven.  Marget 
had  arranged  everything  with  Whinnie,  and  all 
saw  the  fitness.  His  father  took  the  head,  and 
the  feet  (next  in  honour)  he  gave  to  Domsie. 

"  Ye  maun  dae  it.  Marget  said  ye  were  o* 
his  ain  bluid." 

On  the  right  side  the  cords  were  handed  to 


54  DOMSIE 

the  Doctor,  Gordon,  and  myself ;  and  on  the 
left  to  Drumsheugh,  Maclean,  and  Chalmers. 
Domsie  lifted  the  hood  for  Marget,  but  the 
roses  he  gently  placed  on  George's  name.  Then 
with  bent,  uncovered  heads,  and  in  unbroken 
silence,  we  buried  all  that  remained  of  our 
scholar. 

We  always  waited  till  the  grave  was  filled 
and  the  turf  laid  down,  a  trying  quarter  of  an 
hour.  Ah  me  !  the  thud  of  the  spade  on  your 
mother's  grave !  None  gave  any  sign  of  what 
he  felt  save  Drumsheugh,  whose  sordid  slough 
had  slipped  off  from  a  tender  heart,  and  Chal- 
mers, who  went  behind  a  tombstone  and  sobbed 
aloud.  Not  even  Posty  asked  the  reason  so 
much  as  by  a  look,  and  Drumtochty,  as  it 
passed,  made  as  though  it  did  not  see.  But  I 
marked  that  the  Dominie  took  Chalmers  home, 
and  walked  all  the  way  with  him  to  Kildrum- 
mie  station  next  morning.  His  friends  erected 
a  granite  cross  over  George's  grave,  and  it  was 
left  to  Domsie  to  choose  the  inscription.  There 
was  a  day  when  it  would  have  been  "  Whom 
the  gods  love  die  young."  Since  then  Domsie 
had  seen  the  kingdom  of  God,  and  this  is  gra- 


A  SCHOLAR'S   FUNERAL  55 

ven  where  the  roses  bloomed  fresh  every  sum. 
mer  for  twenty  years  till  Marget  was  laid  with 
her  son : 

George  Howe,  M.A., 

Died  September  22nd,  1869, 

Aged  21. 

"  They  shall  bring  the  glory  and  honour  of  the 
nations  into  it." 

It  was  a  late  November  day  when  I  went  to 
see  George's  memorial,  and  the  immortal  hope 
was  burning  low  in  my  heart ;  but  as  I  stood 
before  that  cross,  the  sun  struggled  from  be- 
hind a  black  watery  bank  of  cloud,  and  picked 
out  every  letter  of  the  Apocalypse  in  gold. 


A    HIGHLAND    MYSTIC 


WHAT  EYE  HATH  NOT  SEEN 

Strange  ministers  who  came  to  assist  at  the 
Free  Kirk  Sacrament  were  much  impressed 
with  the  elders,  and  never  forgot  the  trans- 
figuration of  Donald  Menzies,  which  used  to 
begin  about  the  middle  of  the  "  action"  sermon, 
and  was  completed  at  the  singing  of  the  last 
Psalm.  Once  there  was  no  glory,  because  the 
minister,  being  still  young,  expounded  a  new 
theory  of  the  atonement  of  German  manufac- 
ture, and  Donald's  face  was  piteous  to  behold. 
It  haunted  the  minister  for  months,  and  brought 
to  confusion  a  promising  course  of  sermons  on 
the  contribution  of  Hegel  to  Christian  thought. 
Donald  never  laid  the  blame  of  such  calamities 
on  the  preacher,  but  accepted  them  as  a  just 
judgment  on  his  blindness  of  heart. 


60  A  HIGHLAND   MYSTIC 

"We  hef  had  the  open  vision,"  Donald  ex- 
plained to  his  friend  Lachlan  Campbell,  who 
distributed  the  responsibility  in  another  fash- 
ion, "  and  we  would  not  see — so  the  veil  hass 
fallen." 

Donald  sat  before  the  pulpit  and  filled  the 
hearts  of  nervous  probationers  with  dismay, 
not  because  his  face  was  critical,  but  because  it 
seemed  non-conducting,  upon  which  their  best 
passages  would  break  like  spray  against  a  rock. 
It  was  by  nature  the  dullest  you  ever  saw,  with 
hair  descending  low  upon  the  forehead,  and 
preposterous  whiskers  dominating  everything 
that  remained,  except  a  heavy  mouth  and 
brown,  lack-lustre  eyes.  For  a  while  Donald 
crouched  in  the  corner  of  the  pew,  his  head 
sunk  on  his  breast,  a  very  picture  of  utter  hope- 
lessness. But  as  the  Evangel  began  to  play 
round  his  heart,  he  would  fix  the  preacher  with 
rapid,  wistful  glances,  as  of  one  who  had  awaked 
but  hardly  dared  believe  such  things  could  be 
true.  Suddenly  a  sigh  pervaded  six  pews,  a 
kind  of  gentle  breath  of  penitence,  faith,  love, 
and  hope  mingled  together  like  the  incense  of 
the  sanctuary,  and  Donald  lifted  up  his  head. 


WHAT  EYE  HATH   NOT  SEEN      61 

His  eyes  are  now  aflame,  and  those  sullen  lips 
are  refining  into  curves  of  tenderness.  From 
the  manse  pew  I  watched  keenly,  for  at  any 
moment  a  wonderful  sight  may  be  seen.  A 
radiant  smile  will  pass  from  his  lips  to  his  eyes 
and  spread  over  his  face,  as  when  the  sun  shines 
on  a  fallow  field  and  the  rough  furrows  melt 
into  warmth  and  beauty.  Donald's  gaze  is 
now  fixed  on  a  window  above  the  preacher's 
head,  for  on  these  great  days  that  window  is  to 
him  as  the  gate  of  heaven.  All  I  could  see 
would  be  a  bit  of  blue,  and  the  fretted  sun- 
light through  the  swaying  branches  of  an  old 
plane  tree.  But  Donald  has  seen  his  Lord 
hanging  upon  the  Cross  for  him,  and  the  New 
Jerusalem  descending  like  a  bride  adorned  for 
her  husband  more  plainly  than  if  Perugino's 
great  Crucifixion,  with  the  kneeling  saints,  and 
Angelico's  Outer  Court  of  Heaven,  with  the 
dancing  angels,  had  been  hung  in  our  little 
Free  Kirk.  When  he  went  down  the  aisle 
with  the  flagon  in  the  Sacrament,  he  walked  as 
one  in  a  dream,  and  wist  not  that  his  face 
shone. 

There  was  an  interval  after  the  Sacrament, 


62  A   HIGHLAND   MYSTIC 

when  the  stranger  was  sent  to  his  room  with 
light  refreshments,  to  prepare  himself  for  the 
evening,  and  the  elders  dined  with  the  minister. 
Before  the  introduction  of  the  Highlanders 
conversation  had  an  easy  play  within  recog- 
nized limits,  and  was  always  opened  by  Burn- 
brae,  who  had  come  out  in  '43,  and  was  under- 
stood to  have  read  the  Confession  of  Faith. 

"  Ye  gave  us  a  grawnd  discoorse  this  mornin', 
sir,  baith  instructive  and  edifyin* ;  we  were 
juist  sayin*  comin'  up  the  gairden  that  ye  were 
never  heard  to  mair  advantage.'* 

The  minister  was  much  relieved,  because  he 
had  not  been  hopeful  during  the  week,  and  was 
still  dissatisfied,  as  he  explained  at  length,  with 
the  passage  on  the  Colossian  heresy. 

When  these  doubts  had  been  cleared  up, 
Burnbrae  did  his  best  by  the  minister  up  stairs, 
who  had  submitted  himself  to  the  severe  test 
of  table  addresses. 

"  Yon  were  verra  suitable  words  at  the  second 
table  ;  he's  a  speeritually  minded  man,  Maister 
Cosh,  and  has  the  richt  sough." 

Or  at  the  worst,  when  Burnbrae's  courage 
had  Failed: 


WHAT   EYE   HATH   NOT   SEEN       6$ 

"  Maister  McKittrick  had  a  fine  text  afore  the 
table.  I  aye  like  tae  see  a  man  gang  tae  the 
Song  o*  Solomon  on  the  Sacrament  Sabbath. 
A*  mind  Dr.  Guthrie  on  that  verra  subject 
twenty  years  syne." 

Having  paid  its  religious  dues,  conversation 
was  now  allowed  some  freedom,  and  it  was 
wonderful  how  many  things  could  be  touched 
on,  always  from  a  sacramental  standpoint. 

"  We've  been  awfu'  favoured  wi'  weather  the 
day,  and  ought  to  be  thankfu*.  Gin  it  hads  on 
like  this  I  wudna  say  but  th'ill  be  a  gude  hairst. 
That's  a  fine  pucklie  aits  ye  hae  in  the  laigh 
park,  Burnbrae." 

"  A've  seen  waur ;  they're  fillin'  no  that  bad. 
I  wes  juist  thinkin'  as  I  cam  to  the  Kirk  that 
there  wes  aits  in  that  field  the  Sacrament  after 
the  Disruption." 

"Did  ye  notice  that  Rachel  Skene  sat  in 
her  seat  through  the  tables?  Says  I,  'Are  ye 
no  gain  forrit,  Mistress  Skene,'  or  hae  ye  lost 
yir  token  ? '  '  Na,  na,'  says  she,  '  ma  token's  safe 
in  ma  handkerchief ;  but  I  cudna  get  to  Kirk 
yesterday,  and  I  never  went  forrit  withoot  ma 
Saiturday  yet,  and  I'm  no  to  begin  noo/  " 


64  A   HIGHLAND   MYSTIC 

"  She  was  aye  a  richt-thinkin'  woman,  Rachel, 
there's  nae  mistake  o'  that ;  a'  wonder  hoo  her 
son  is  gettin'  on  wi'  that  fairm  he's  takin' ;  a' 
doot  it's  rack-rented." 

It  was  an  honest,  satisfying  conversation, 
and  reminded  one  of  the  parish  of  Drum- 
tochty,  being  both  quoad  sacra  and  quoad 
civilia. 

When  the  Highlanders  came  in,  B umbrae 
was  deposed  after  one  encounter,  and  the  min- 
ister was  reduced  to  a  state  of  timid  sugges- 
tion. There  were  days  when  they  would  not 
speak  one  word,  and  were  understood  to  be 
lost  in  meditation  ;  on  others  they  broke  in  on 
any  conversation  that  was  going  from  levels 
beyond  the  imagination  of  Drumtochty.  Had 
this  happened  in  the  Auld  Manse,  Drumsheugh 
would  have  taken  for  granted  that  Donald  was 
"  feeling  sober"  (ill),  and  recommended  the  bot- 
tle which  cured  him  of  "  a  hoast"  (cough)  in 
the  fifties.  But  the  Free  Kirk  had  been  taught 
that  the  Highlanders  were  unapproachable  in 
spiritual  attainments,  and  even  Burnbrae  took 
his  discipline  meekly. 

u  It  wes   a   mercy   the   mune   changed  last 


WHAT   EYE    HATH    NOT   SEEN       65 

week,  Maister  Menzies,  or  a'm  thinkin'  it  hed 
been  a  weet  sacrament." 

Donald  came  out  of  a  maze,  where  he  had 
been  wandering  in  great  peace. 

"  I  wass  not  hearing  that  the  moon  had  any- 
thing to  do  in  the  matter.  Oh  no,  but  he  wass 
bound  hand  and  foot  by  a  mighty  man." 

"  Wha  was  bund  ?  A'm  no  juist  followin*  ye, 
Maister  Menzies." 

"  The  Prince  of  the  power  of  the  air.  Oh 
yes,  and  he  shall  not  be  loosed  till  the  occasion 
be  over.  I  hef  had  a  sign."  After  which  con- 
versation on  the  weather  languished. 

Perhaps  the  minister  fared  worse  in  an  at- 
tempt to  extract  a  certificate  of  efficiency  from 
Lachlan  Campbell  in  favour  of  a  rhetorical 
young  preacher. 

"  A  fery  nice  speaker,  and  well  pleased  with 
himself.  But  I  would  be  thinking,  when  he 
wass  giving  his  images.  Oh  yes,  I  would  be 
thinking.  There  was  a  laddie  feeshing  in  the 
burn  before  my  house,  and  a  fery  pretty  laddie 
he  wass.  He  had  a  rod  and  a  string,  and  he 
threw  his  line  peautiful.  It  wass  a  great  peety 
he  had  no  hook,  for  it  iss  a  want,  and  you  do 
E 


66  A   HIGHLAND   MYSTIC 

not  catch  many  fish  without  a  hook.  But  I 
shall  be  glad  that  you  are  pleased,  sir,  and  all 
the  elders." 

These  were  only  passing  incidents,  and  left 
no  trace,  but  the  rebuke  Donald  gave  to  Burn- 
brae  will  be  told  while  an  elder  lives.  One  of 
the  last  of  the  old  mystical  school,  which  trace 
their  descent  from  Samuel  Rutherford,  had  de- 
scribed the  great  mystery  of  our  Faith  with 
such  insight  and  pathos,  that  Donald  had  stood 
by  the  table  weeping  gently,  and  found  him- 
self afterwards  in  the  manse,  he  knew  not  how. 

The  silence  was  more  than  could  be  borne, 
and  his  former  responsibility  fell  on  Burnbrae. 

"  It  wes  wonnerful,  and  I  canna  mind  hear- 
ing the  like  o*  yon  at  the  tables ;  but  I  wes 
sorry  to  see  the  Doctor  sae  failed.  He  wes 
bent  twa  fad ;  a'  doot  it's  a  titch  o'  rheuma- 
tism, or  maybe  lumbago." 

Johannine  men  are  subject  to  sudden  flashes 
of  anger,  and  Donald  blazed. 

"  Bent  down  with  rheumatism,  iss  that  what 
you  say?  Oh  yes,  it  will  be  rheumatism.  Hass 
the  sight  of  your  eyes  left  you,  and  hef  you  no 
discernment?    Did  ye   not  see  that    he  was 


WHAT   EYE   HATH   NOT   SEEN       67 

bowed  to  the  very  table  with  the  power  of  the 
Word  ?  for  it  was  a  fire  in  his  bones,  and  he 
was  baptised  with  the  Holy  Ghost." 

When  the  elders  gathered  in  the  vestry,  the 
minister  asked  what  time  the  preacher  might 
have  for  his  evening  sermon,  and  Donald  again 
burst  forth : 

"  I  am  told  that  in  towns  the  Gospel  goes 
by  minutes,  like  the  trains  at  the  stations ;  but 
there  iss  no  time-table  here,  for  we  shall  wait 
till  the  sun  goes  down  to  hear  all  things  God 
will  be  sending  by  His  servant." 

Good  memories  differ  about  the  text  that 
Sacrament  evening,  and  the  length  of  the  ser- 
mon, but  all  hold  as  a  treasure  for  ever  what 
happened  when  the  book  was  closed.  The 
people  were  hushed  into  a  quiet  that  might  be 
felt,  and  the  old  man,  swayed  by  the  spirit  of 
the  Prophets,  began  to  repeat  the  blessings  and 
curses  in  the  Bible  between  Genesis  and  Reve- 
lation, and  after  each  pair  he  cried  with  heart- 
piercing  voice,  "  Choose  this  day  which  ye  will 
take,"  till  Donald  could  contain  himself  no 
longer. 

"  Here  iss  the  man  who  hass  deserved  all  the 


68  A   HIGHLAND   MYSTIC 

curses,  and  here  iss  the  man  who  chooses  all 
the  blessings." 

Our  fathers  had  no  turn  for  sensation,  but 
they  had  an  unerring  sense  of  a  spiritual  situa- 
tion. The  preacher  paused  for  five  seconds, 
while  no  man  could  breathe,  and  then  lifting 
up  his  hand  to  Heaven  he  said,  with  an  inde- 
scribable authority  and  tenderness,  "  The  Lord 
fulfil  the  desire  of  your  heart  both  in  this 
world  and  in  that  which  is  to  come." 

Then  the  congregation  sang,  after  the  an- 
cient custom  of  our  parts, 

"  Now  blessed  be  the  Lord  our  God, 
The  God  of  Israel," 

and  Donald's  face  was  one  glory,  because  he 
saw  in  the  soft  evening  light  of  the  upper  win- 
dow the  angels  of  God  ascending  and  descend- 
ing upon  the  Son  of  man. 

It  was  after  this  that  the  Free  Kirk  minister 
occupied  six  months  in  proving  that  Moses  did 
not  write  Deuteronomy,  and  Lachlan  was  try- 
ing for  the  same  period  to  have  the  minister 
removed  from  Drumtochty.  Donald,  deprived 
by  one  stroke  of  both  his  friends,  fell  back  on 


WHAT  EYE  HATH  NOT  SEEN   69 

me,  and  told  me  many  things  I  loved  to  hear, 
although  they  were  beyond  my  comprehension. 

"  It  wass  not  always  so  with  me  as  it  iss  this 
day,  for  I  once  had  no  ear  for  God's  voice,  and 
my  eyes  were  holden  that  I  saw  not  the  spiritual 
world.  But  sore  sickness  came  upon  me,  and 
I  wass  nigh  unto  death,  and  my  soul  awoke 
within  me  and  began  to  cry  like  a  child  for  its 
mother.  All  my  days  I  had  lived  on  Loch 
Tay,  and  now  I  thought  of  the  other  country 
into  which  I  would  hef  to  be  going,  where  I 
had  no  nest,  and  my  soul  would  be  driven  to 
and  fro  in  the  darkness  as  a  bird  on  the  moor 
of  Rannoch. 

"  Janet  sent  for  the  minister,  and  he  wass 
fery  kind,  and  he  spoke  about  my  siekness  and 
my  farm,  and  I  said  nothing.  For  I  wass  hop- 
ing he  would  tell  me  what  I  wass  to  do  for  my 
soul.  But  he  began  upon  the  sheep  market  at 
Amulree,  and  I  knew  he  wass  also  in  the  dark. 
After  he  left  I  turned  my  face  to  the  wall  and 
wept. 

"  Next  morning  wass  the  Sabbath,  and  I 
said  to  Janet : 

" '  Wrap  me  in  my  plaid,  and  put  me  in  a 


7©  A   HIGHLAND   MYSTIC 

cart,  and  take  me  to  Aberfeldy.'  ■  And  what 
will  ye  be  doing  at  Aberfeldy  ?  and  you  will 
die  on  the  road.'  'There  iss,'  said  I,  'a  man 
there  who  knows  the  way  of  the  soul,  and  it  iss 
better  to  die  with  my  face  to  the  light.' 

"  They  set  me  in  a  corner  of  the  church 
where  I  wass  thinking  no  man  could  see  me, 
and  I  cried  in  my  heart  without  ceasing, 
1  Lord,  send  me — send  me  a  word  from  Thy 
mouth/ 

"  When  the  minister  came  into  the  pulpit  he 
gave  me  a  strange  look,  and  this  wass  his  text, 
*  Loose  him  and  let  him  go.' 

"  As  he  preached  I  knew  I  wass  Lazurus, 
with  the  darkness  of  the  grave  around  me,  and 
my  soul  straitly  bound.  I  could  do  nothing, 
but  I  wass  longing  with  all  my  strength. 

"Then  the  minister  stopped,  and  he  said  : 

"  There  iss  a  man  in  this  church,  and  he  will 
know  himself  who  it  iss.  When  I  came  in  this 
morning  I  saw  a  shadow  on  his  face,  and  I 
knew  not  whether  it  was  the  wing  of  the  Angel 
of  Life  or  the  Angel  of  Death  passing  over 
him,  but  the  Lord  has  made  it  plain  to  me,  and 
I  see  the  silver  feathers  of  the  Angel  of  the 


WHAT   EYE   HATH   NOT   SEEN       71 

Covenant,  and  this  shall  be  a  sign  unto  that 
man,  u  Loose  him  and  let  him  go." ' 

"  While  he  wass  still  speaking  I  felt  my  soul 
carried  out  into  the  light  of  God's  face,  and  my 
grave  clothes  were  taken  off  one  by  one  as 
Janet  would  unwind  my  plaid,  and  I  stood  a 
living  man  before  Christ. 

"  It  wass  a  sweet  June  day  as  we  drove 
home,  and  I  lay  in  sunshine,  and  every  bird 
that  sang,  and  the  burnies  by  the  roadside,  and 
the  rustling  of  the  birch  leaves  in  the  wind — 
oh  yes,  and  the  sound  of  the  horse's  feet  were 
saying,  *  Loose  him  and  let  him  go.' 

"  Loch  Tay  looked  black  angry  as  we  came 
by  its  side  in  the  morning,  and  I  said  to  Janet : 

" '  It  iss  the  Dead  Sea,  and  I  shall  be  as 
Sodom  and  Gomorrah ;'  but  in  the  evening  it 
wass  as  a  sea  of  glass  mingled  with  fire,  and  I 
heard  the  song  of  Moses  and  the  Lamb  sweep- 
ing over  the  Loch,  but  this  wass  still  the 
sweetest  word  to  me,  *  Loose  him  and  let  him 
go- 


II 


AGAINST  PRINCIPALITIES  AND 
POWERS 

The  powers  of  darkness  had  been  making  a 
dead  set  upon  Donald  all  winter,  and  towards 
spring  he  began  to  lose  hope.  He  came  to  the 
Cottage  once  a  week  with  news  from  the  seat 
of  war,  and  I  could  distinguish  three  zones  of 
depression.  Within  the  first  he  bewailed  his 
inveterate  attachment  to  this  world,  and  his 
absolute  indifference  to  spiritual  things,  and 
was  content  to  describe  himself  as  Achan. 
The  sign  that  he  had  entered  the  second  was 
a  recurring  reference  to  apostacy,  and  then  you 
had  the  melancholy  satisfaction  of  meeting  the 
living  representative  of  Simon  Peter.  When 
he  passed  into  the  last  zone  of  the  Purgatorio, 
Donald  was  beyond  speech,  and  simply  allow- 


PRINCIPALITIES  AND  POWERS      73 

ed  one  to  gather  from  allusions  to  thirty  pieces 
of  silver  that  he  was  Judas  Iscariot. 

So  long  as  it  was  only  Achan  or  Simon  Peter 
that  came  to  sit  with  me,  one  was  not  gravely 
concerned,  but  Judas  Iscariot  meant  that  Don- 
ald had  entered  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow. 

He  made  a  spirited  rally  at  the  Winter  Sac- 
rament, and  distinguished  himself  greatly  on 
the  evening  of  the  Fast  day.  Being  asked  to 
pray,  as  a  recognition  of  comparative  cheerful- 
ness, Donald  continued  for  five  and  twenty 
minutes,  and  unfolded  the  works  of  the  Devil 
in  such  minute  and  vivid  detail  that  Burnbrae 
talks  about  it  to  this  day,  and  Lachlan  Camp- 
bell, although  an  expert  in  this  department, 
confessed  astonishment.  It  was  a  mighty 
wrestle,  and  it  was  perhaps  natural  that  Don- 
ald should  groan  heavily  at  regular  intervals, 
and  acquaint  the  meeting  how  the  conflict 
went,  but  the  younger  people  were  much  shak- 
en, and  the  edification  even  of  the  serious  was 
not  without  reserve. 

While  Donald  still  lingered  on  the  field  of 
battle  to  gather  the  spoils  and  guard  against 
any  sudden  return  of  the  enemy,  the  elders  had 


74  A   HIGHLAND   MYSTIC 

a  hurried  consultation  in  the  vestry,  and  Burn* 
brae  put  the  position  with  admirable  force. 

"  Naebody  can  deny  that  it  wes  a  maist  ex- 
traordinary prayer,  and  it  passes  me  hoo  he  kens 
sae  muckle  aboot  the  Deevil.  In  fac'  it's  a 
preevilege  tae  hae  sic  an  experienced  hand 
among  us,  and  I  wudna  offend  Donald  Menzies 
for  onything.  But  yon  groanin'  wes  a  wee 
thingie  discomposing  and  when  he  said,  kind  o* 
confidential,  '  He's  losing  his  grup/  ma  ain 
fouk  cudna  keep  their  coontenance.  Weel,  I 
wes  thinkin'  that  the  best  plan  wud  be  for 
Maister  Campbell  juist  tae  give  a  bit  advice 
and  tell  Donald  that  we're  thankfu'  to  hear 
him  at  the  meeting,  and  michty  lifted  wi'  his 
peteetions,  but  it  wud  be  an  obleegation  gin 
he  wud  leave  oot  the  groans  and  tell  us  aifter- 
wards  what  wes  gaein'  on,  maybe  in  the  Ses- 
sion." 

Lachlan  accepted  his  commission  with  quite 
unusual  diffidence,  and  offered  a  very  free 
translation  on  the  way  home. 

"  It  wass  a  mercy  to  hef  you  at  the  meeting 
this  night,  Donald  Menzies,  for  I  saw  that 
Satan  had  come  in  great  strength,  and  it  iss 


PRINCIPALITIES  AND    POWERS      75 

not  every  man  that  can  withstand  him.  But 
you  will  not  be  ignorant  of  his  devices  ;  oh  no, 
you  will  be  knowing  them  fery  well.  Satan 
had  not  much  to  say  before  the  prayer  wass 
done,  and  I  will  not  be  expecting  to  see  him 
again  at  this  occasion.  It  wass  the  elders  said, 
*  Donald  Menzies  hass  trampled  Satan  under 
foot/  Oh  yes,  and  fery  glad  men  they  were, 
for  it  iss  not  given  to  them.  But  I  would  be 
thinking  iss  it  good  to  let  the  Devil  hear  you 
groaning  in  the  battle,  and  I  would  be  wishing 
that  you  had  kept  all  your  groans  and  given 
them  to  me  on  the  road." 

"  Iss  it  the  groans  you  are  not  liking  ?  "  re- 
torted Donald,  stung  by  this  unexpected  criti- 
cism. "And  what  iss  wrong  with  groaning? 
But  I  hef  the  Scripture,  and  I  will  not  be  car- 
ing what  you  say,  Lachlan  Campbell." 

"If  you  hef  a  warrant  for  groaning,  it  iss 
this  man  that  will  be  glad  to  hear  it,  for  I  am 
not  remembering  that  passage." 

"  Maybe  you  hef  not  read  '  Maketh  inter- 
cession with  groanings,'  but  it  iss  a  fery  good 
Scripture,  and  it  iss  in  my  Bible." 

"All   Scripture   iss  good,   Donald  Menzies, 


76  A    HIGHLAND    MYSTIC 

but  it  iss  not  lawful  to  divide  Scripture,  and  it 
will  read  in  my  Bible,  *  groanings  which  cannot 
be  uttered/  and  I  wass  saying  this  would  be 
the  best  way  with  your  groans." 

Donald  came  in  to  tell  me  how  his  com- 
panion in  arms  had  treated  him,  and  was  still 
sore. 

"  He  iss  in  the  bondage  of  the  letter  these 
days,  for  he  will  be  always  talking  about  Moses 
with  the  minister,  and  I  am  not  hearing  that 
iss  good  for  the  soul." 

If  even  Lachlan  could  not  attain  to  Donald, 
it  was  perhaps  no  discredit  that  the  Drum- 
tochty  mind  was  at  times  hopelessly  per- 
plexed. 

"  He's  a  gude  cratur  and  terrible  gifted  in 
prayer,"  Netherton  explained  to  Burnbrae  after 
a  prayer-meeting,  when  Donald  had  tempo- 
rarily abandoned  Satan  and  given  himself  to 
autobiography,  "  but  yon  wesna  a  verra  ceevil 
way  to  speak  aboot  his  faither  and  mither." 

"  A'  doot  yir  imagining  Netherton.  Donald 
never  mentioned  his  fouk  the  nicht,  and  it's  no 
likely  he  wud  in  the  prayer-meeting  " 

"  There's   nae   imaginin*  aboot   it ;  a*  heard 


PRINCIPALITIES   AND   POWERS     77 

him  wi'  ma  ain  ears  say  twice,  '  My  father  was 
an  Amorite,  and  my  mother  a  Hittite.'  I'll 
take  my  aith  on  it.  Noo,  a'  dinna  ken  Don- 
ald's forbears  masel,  for  he's  frae  Tayside,  but 
supposin'  they  were  as  bad  as  bad  cud  be,  it's 
no  for  him  to  blacken  his  ain  blood,  and  him 
an  Elder." 

"  Toots,  Netherton,  yir  aff  it  a*  thegither. 
Div  ye  no  see  yon's  Bible  langidge  oot  o'  a 
Prophet,  or  maybe  Kings,  and  Donald  wes 
usin't  in  a  feegurative  capaucity  ?  " 

"  Feegurative  or  no  feegurative,  Burnbrae,  it 
disna  maitter ;  it's  a  peetifu'  job  howking 
(digging)  thro'  the  Bible  for  ill  words  tae  misca 
yir  fouk  wi'  afore  the  public." 

Burnbrae  gave  up  the  contest  in  despair, 
feeling  himself  that  Old  Testament  allusions 
were  risky,  and  that  Donald's  quotation  was 
less  than  felicitous. 

Donald's  prayers  were  not  known  outside 
the  Free  Kirk  circle,  but  his  encounters  with 
the  evil  one  were  public  property,  and  caused 
a  general  shudder.  Drumtochty  was  never 
sure  who  might  not  be  listening,  and  consider- 
ed that  it  was  safer  not  to  meddle  with  certain 


78  A   HIGHLAND   MYSTIC 

nameless  people.  But  Donald  waged  an  open 
warfare  in  every  corner  of  the  parish,  in  the 
Kirk,  by  the  wayside,  in  his  house,  on  the  road 
to  market,  and  was  ready  to  give  any  one  the 
benefit  of  his  experiences. 

"  Donald  Menzies  is  in  yonder,"  said  Hillocks, 
pointing  to  the  smithy,  whose  fire  sent  fitful 
gleams  across  the  dark  road,  "  and  he's  carryin' 
on  maist  fearsome.  Ye  wud  think  tae  hear 
him  speak  that  auld  Hornie  wes  gaein'  louse  in 
the  parish ;  it  sent  a  grue  (shiver)  doon  ma 
back.  Faigs,  it's  no  cannie  to  be  muckle  wi' 
the  body,  for  the  Deil  and  Donald  seem  never 
separate.     Hear  him  noo,  hear  him." 

"  Oh  yes,"  said  Donald,  addressing  the  smith 
and  two  horror-stricken  ploughmen,  "  I  hef 
seen  him,  and  he  hass  withstood  me  on  the 
road.  It  wass  late,  and  I  wass  thinking  on  the 
shepherd  and  the  sheep,  and  Satan  will  come 
out  from  the  wood  below  Hillocks'  farm-house 
('  Gude   preserve  us,'  from  Hillocks)  and  say? 

*  That  word  is  not  for  you,  Donald  Menzies.' 
But    I    wass    strong   that    night,    and    I    said, 

*  Neither  shall  any  pluck  them  out  of  my 
hand,'   and   he  will   not  wait   long   after  that, 


PRINCIPALITIES   AND   POWERS     79 

oh  no,  and  I  did  not  follow  him  into  the 
wood." 

The  smith,  released  by  the  conclusion  of  the 
tale,  blew  a  mighty  blast,  and  the  fire  burst 
into  a  red  blaze,  throwing  into  relief  the  black 
figure  of  the  smith  and  the  white  faces  of  the 
ploughmen;  glancing  from  the  teeth  of  har- 
rows, and  the  blades  of  scythes,  and  the  cruel 
knives  of  reaping  machines,  and  from  instru- 
ments with  triple  prongs  ;  and  lighting  up  with 
a  hideous  glare  the  black  sooty  recesses  of  the 
smithy. 

"Keep's  a*,"  whispered  Hiilocks,  clutching 
my  arm,  "  it's  little  better  than  the  ill  place. 
I  wish  to  gudeness  I  wes  safe  in  ma  ain 
hoose." 

These  were  only  indecisive  skirmishes,  for 
one  evening  Donald  came  to  my  den  with 
despair  written  on  every  feature,  and  I  knew 
that  fighting  had  begun  at  the  centre,  and  that 
he  was  worsted. 

It  was  half  an  hour  before  he  became  artic- 
ulate, during  which  time  he  sighed  as  if  the 
end  of  all  things  had  come,  and  I  caught  the 
word  scapegoat  twice,  but  at  last  he  told  me 


8o  A    HIGHLAND   MYSTIC 

that  he  had  resigned  his  eldership,  and  would 
absent  himself  in  future  from  the  Free  Kirk. 

"  It  hass  been  a  weary  winter  when  minister 
and  people  hef  gone  into  captivity,  and  on  Sab- 
bath the  word  wass  taken  altogether  from  the 
minister's  mouth,  and  he  spake  a  language 
which  we  understood  not  [it  was  the  first  of 
three  sermons  on  the  Hexateuch,  and  had 
treated  of  the  Jehovistic  and  Elohistic  docu- 
ments with  much  learning],  and  I  will  be  ask- 
ing all  the  way  back,  *  Iss  it  I  ? '     -  Iss  it  I  ?  ' 

"  Oh  yes,  and  when  I  opened  my  Bible  this 
iss  the  word  I  will  see,  *  That  thou  doest  do 
quickly,'  and  I  knew  it  wass  my  sins  that  had 
brought  great  judgments  on  the  people,  and 
turned  the  minister  into  a  man  of  stammering 
lips  and  another  tongue. 

"  It  wass  a  mercy  that  the  roof  did  not  fall 
and  bury  all  the  people  with  me ;  but  we  will 
not  be  tempting  the  Almighty,  for  I  hef  gone 
outside,  and  now  there  will  be  peace  and 
blessing." 

When  we  left  the  lighted  room  and  stood  on 
the  doorstep,  Donald  pointed  to  the  darkness. 
"  There  iss  no  star,  and  you  will  be  remember- 


PRINCIPALITIES   AND   POWERS      Si 

ing  what  John  saw  when  the  door  opened  and 
Judas  went  out.  l  It  wass  night ' — oh  yes,  it 
iss  night  for  me,  but  it  will  be  light  for 
them." 

As  weeks  went  past,  and  Donald  was  seen 
neither  at  Kirk  nor  market,  my  heart  went  out 
to  the  lonely  man  in  his  soul  conflict,  and, 
although  there  was  no  help  in  me,  I  went  to 
ask  how  it  fared  with  him.  After  the  footpath 
disentangled  itself  from  the  pine  woods  and 
crossed  the  burn  by  two  fir  trees  nailed  to- 
gether, it  climbed  a  steep  ascent  to  Donald's 
house,  but  I  had  barely  touched  the  foot,  when 
I  saw  him  descending,  his  head  in  the  air,  and 
his  face  shining.  Before  any  words  passed,  I 
knew  that  the  battle  had  been  fought  and  won. 

"  It  wass  last  night,  and  I  will  be  coming  to 
tell  you.  Satan  hass  gone  like  darkness  when 
the  sun  ariseth,  and  I  hef  been  delivered." 

There  are  stories  one  cannot  hear  sitting, 
and  so  we  paced  the  meadow  below,  rich  in 
primroses,  with  a  sloping  bank  of  gorse  behind 
us,  and  the  pines  before  us,  and  the  water 
breaking  over  the  stones  at  our  feet. 

"  It  is  three  weeks  since  I  saw  you,  and  all 


82  A   HIGHLAND   MYSTIC 

that  time  I  hef  been  wandering  on  the  hill  by 
day,  and  lying  in  the  barn  at  night,  for  it  wass 
not  good  to  be  with  people,  and  Satan  wass 
always  saying  to  me,  Judas  went  to  '  his  own 
place.'  My  dog  will  lay  his  head  on  my  knee, 
and  be  sorry  for  me,  and  the  dumb  animals  will 
be  looking  at  me  out  of  their  great  eyes,  and 
be  moaning. 

"  The  lads  are  good  singers,  and  there  wass 
always  a  sound  of  Psalms  on  the  farm,  oh  yes, 
and  it  was  pleasant  to  come  from  the  market 
and  hear  the  Psalms  at  the  foot  of  the  hill.  It 
wass  like  going  up  to  Jerusalem.  But  there 
would  be  no  Psalms  these  days,  for  the  lads 
could  not  sing  when  their  father's  soul  wass 
going  down  into  the  pit. 

"  Oh  no,  and  there  wass  no  prayer  last  night, 
but  I  told  the  lads  to  go  to  bed,  and  I  lay 
down  before  the  fire  to  wrestle  once  more 
before  I  perished. 

"Janet  will  offer  this  word  and  the  other, 
and  I  will  be  trying  them  all,  but  Satan  wass 
tearing  them  away  as  quick  as  I  could  speak, 
and  he  always  said,  '  his  own  place.' 

"  ■  There  iss  no  hope  for  me,'  I  cried,  ■  but  it 


PRINCIPALITIES   AND   POWERS     83 

iss  a  mercy  that  you  and  the  lads  will  be  safe 
in  the  City,  and  maybe  the  Lord  will  let  me  see 
you  all  through  the  gate.'  And  that  wass 
lifting  me,  but  then  I  will  hear  '  his  own  place/ 
'his  own  place/  and  my  heart  began  to  fail, 
and  I  wass  nigh  to  despair, 

"  Then  I  heard  a  voice,  oh  yes,  as  plain  as 
you  are  hearing  me,  'The  blood  of  Jesus 
Christ,  His  Son,  cleanseth  us  from  all  sin/  It 
wass  like  a  gleam  from  the  Mercy-seat,  but  I 
would  be  waiting  to  see  whether  Satan  had 
any  answer,  and  my  heart  was  standing  still. 
But  there  wass  no  word  from  him,  not  one 
word.  Then  I  leaped  to  my  feet  and  cried, 
'  Get  thee  behind  -me,  Satan,'  and  I  will  look 
round,  and  there  wass  no  one  to  be  seen  but 
Janet  in  her  chair,  with  the  tears  on  her  cheeks, 
and  she  wass  saying,  '  Thanks  be  to  God,  which 
giveth  us  the  victory  through  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ/ 

"  The  lads  were  not  sleeping  fery  Bound 
when  their  father  was  fighting  for  his  life,  oh 
no,  and  I  am  not  saying  but  maybe  they  would 
be  praying.  It  wass  not  fery  long  before  they 
came  down,  and  Hamish  will  be  looking  at  my 


84  A   HIGHLAND   MYSTIC 

face,  and  then  he  will  get  the  books,  and  this 
is  the  Psalm  we  sang — 

°  I  love  the  Lord,  because  my  voice 

And  prayers  He  did  hear. 
I,  while  I  live,  will  call  on  Him, 

Who  bowed  to  me  His  ear. 
***** 
God  merciful  and  righteous  is, 

Yea,  gracious  is  our  Lord  ; 
God  saves  the  meek  ;  I  was  brought  low, 

He  did  me  help  afford." 

This  was  the  victory  of  Donald  Menzies,  and 
on  reaching  home  I  marked  that  the  early 
roses  were  beginning  to  bloom  over  the  door 
through  which  Donald  had  gone  out  into  the 
darkness. 


HIS    MOTHER'S    SERMON 


''  *  T^SS   ^fiKf^vpliSMlQEM^^K 

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^HHHHBHI^HIHHHHE 

HhHHQ 

THE   MINISTER   IN   THE   MANSE   GARDEN 


HIS  MOTHER'S  SERMON 

He  was  an  ingenuous  lad,  with  the  callow 
simplicity  of  a  theological  college  still  un- 
touched, and  had  arrived  on  the  preceding 
Monday  at  the  Free  Kirk  manse  with  four  cart- 
loads of  furniture  and  a  maiden  aunt.  For 
three  days  he  roamed  from  room  to  room  in 
the  excitement  of  householding,  and  made  sug- 
gestions which  were  received  with  hilarious 
contempt ;  then  he  shut  himself  up  in  his  study 
to  prepare  the  great  sermon,  and  his  aunt  went 
about  on  tiptoe.  During  meals  on  Friday  he 
explained  casually  that  his  own  wish  was  to 
preach  a  simple  sermon,  and  that  he  would  have 
done  so  had  he  been  a  private  individual,  but 
as  he  had  held  the  MacWhammel  scholarship  a 
deliverance  was  expected  by  the  country.  He 
would  be  careful  and  say  nothing  rash,  but  it 
was  due  to  himself  to  state  the  present  position 


&S  HIS   MOTHER'S   SERMON 

of  theological  thought,  and  he  might  have  to 
quote  once  or  twice  from  Ewald. 

His  aunt  was  a  saint,  with  that  firm  grasp  of 
truth,  and  tender  mysticism,  whose  combina- 
tion is  the  charm  of  Scottish  piety,  and  her 
face  was  troubled.  While  the  minister  was 
speaking  in  his  boyish  complacency,  her  thoughts 
were  in  a  room  where  they  had  both  stood, 
five  years  before,  by  the  death-bed  of  his 
mother. 

He  was  broken  that  day,  and  his  sobs  shook 
the  bed,  for  he  was  his  mother's  only  son  and 
fatherless,  and  his  mother,  brave  and  faithful  to 
the  last,  was  bidding  him  farewell. 

"  Dinna  greet  like  that,  John,  nor  break  yir 
hert,  for  it's  the  will  o'  God,  and  that's  aye 
best." 

*  Here's  my  watch  and  chain,"  placing  them 
beside  her  son,  who  could  not  touch  them,  nor 
would  lift  his  head,  "and  when  ye  feel  the 
chain  about  yir  neck  it  will  mind  ye  o'  yir 
mother's  arms." 

"  Ye  'ill  no  forget  me,  John,  I  ken  that  weel, 
and  I'll  never  forget  you.  I've  loved  ye  here 
and  I'll  love  ye  yonder.     Th'ill  no  be  an  'oor 


HIS   MOTHER'S   SERMON  89 

when  I'll  no  pray  for  ye,  and  I'll  ken  better 
what  to  ask  than  I  did  here,  sae  dinna  be  com- 
fortless." 

Then  she  felt  for  his  head  and  stroked  it 
once  more,  but  he  could  not  look  nor  speak. 

"  Ye  'ill  follow  Christ,  and  gin  He  offers  ye 
His  cross,  ye  'ill  no  refuse  it,  for  He  aye  carries 
the  heavy  end  Himsel'.  He's  guided  yir  mother 
a'  thae  years,  and  been  as  gude  as  a  husband 
since  yir  father's  death,  and  He  'ill  hold  me 
fast  tae  the  end.  He  'ill  keep  ye  too,  and, 
John,  I'll  be  watchin'  for  ye.  Ye  'ill  no  fail 
me,"  and  her  poor  cold  hand  that  had  tended 
him  all  his  days  tightened  on  his  head. 

But  he  could  not  speak,  and  her  voice  was 
failing  fast. 

"  I  canna  see  ye  noo,  John,  but  I  know  yir 
there,  and  I've  just  one  other  wish.  If  God 
calls  ye  to  the  ministry,  ye  'ill  no  refuse,  an' 
the  first  day  ye  preach  in  yir  ain  kirk,  speak  a 
gude  word  for  Jesus  Christ,  an,'  John,  I'll  hear 
ye  that  day,  though  ye  'ill  no  see  me,  and  I'll  be 
satisfied." 

A  minute  after  she  whispered,  "  Pray  for 
me,"  and  he  cried,  "  My  mother,  my  mother." 


9o  HIS  MOTHER'S  SERMON 

It  was  a  full  prayer,  and  left  nothing  unasked 
of  Mary's  Son. 

*  John,"  said  his  aunt,  "  your  mother  is  with 
the  Lord,"  and  he  saw  death  for  the  first  time, 
but  it  was  beautiful  with  the  peace  that  pass- 
eth  all  understanding. 

Five  years  had  passed,  crowded  with  thought 
and  work,  and  his  aunt  wondered  whether  he 
remembered  that  last  request,  or  indeed  had 
heard  it  in  his  sorrow. 

"  What  are  you  thinking  about,  aunt  ?  Are 
you  afraid  of  my  theology  ?" 

"  No,  John,  it's  no  that,  laddie,  for  I  ken  ye 
'ill  say  what  ye  believe  to  be  true  withoot  fear 
o'  man,"  and  she  hesitated. 

"  Come,  out  with  it,  auntie :  you're  my 
only  mother  now,  you  know,"  and  the  minis- 
ter put  his  arm  round  her,  "as  well  as  the 
kindest,  bonniest,  goodest  auntie  ever  man 
had." 

Below  his  student  self-conceit  he  was  a  good 
lad,  and  sound  of  heart. 

"  Shame  on  you,  John,  to  make  a  fule  o'  an 
auld  dune  body,  but  ye'll  no  come  round  me 
with  yir  flattery.     I  ken  ye  ower  weel,"  and  as 


HIS  MOTHER'S  SERMON  91 

she  caught  the  likeness  in  his  face,  her  eyes 
filled  suddenly. 

"  What's  the  matter,  auntie  ?  Will  ye  no 
tell  me?" 

"Dinna  be  angry  wi'  me,  John,  but  a'm 
concerned  aboot  Sabbath,  for  a've  been  pray- 
ing ever  syne  ye  were  called  to  Drumtochty 
that  it  micht  be  a  great  day,  and  that  I  micht 
see  ye  comin'  tae  yir  people,  laddie,  wi'  the 
beauty  o'  the  Lord  upon  ye,  according  tae  the 
auld  prophecy :  *■  How  beautiful  upon  the 
mountains  are  the  feet  of  him  that  bringeth 
good  tidings,  that  publisheth  peace,' "  and 
again  she  stopped. 

"  Go  on,  auntie,  go  on,"  he  whispered  ;  "  say 
all  that's  in  yir  mind." 

"  It's  no  for  me  tae  advise  ye,  who  am  only 
a  simple  auld  woman,  who  ken's  naethin'  but 
her  Bible  and  the  Catechism,  and  it's  no  that 
a'm  feared  for  the  new  views,  or  aboot  yir 
faith,  for  I  aye  mind  that  there's  mony  things 
the  Speerit  hes  still  tae  teach  us,  and  I  ken 
weel  the  man  that  follows  Christ  will  never 
lose  his  way  in  ony  thicket.  But  it's  the 
fouk,   John,  a'm   anxious  aboot,  the  flock  o' 


92  HIS   MOTHER'S   SERMON 

sheep  the  Lord  hes  given  ye  tae  feed  for 
Him." 

She  could  not  see  his  face,  but  she  felt  him 
gently  press  her  hand,  and  took  courage. 

"  Ye  maun  mind,  laddie,  that  they're  no 
clever  and  learned  like  what  ye  are,  but  juist 
plain  country  fouk,  ilka  ane  wi'  his  ain  tempta- 
tion, an*  a*  sair  trachled  wi'  mony  cares  o'  this 
world.  They  'ill  need  a  clear  word  tae  com- 
fort their  herts  and  show  them  the  way  ever- 
lasting. Ye  'ill  say  what's  richt,  nae  doot  o* 
that,  and  a'body  'ill  be  pleased  wi'  ye,  but,  oh, 
laddie,  be  sure  ye  say  a  gude  word  for  Jesus 
Christ." 

The  minister's  face  whitened,  and  his  arm 
relaxed.  He  rose  hastily  and  went  to  the  door, 
but  in  going  out  he  gave  his  aunt  an  under- 
standing look,  such  as  passes  between  people 
who  have  stood  together  in  a  sorrow.  The  son 
had  not  forgotten  his  mother's  request. 

The  manse  garden  lies  toward  the  west,  and 
as  the  minister  paced  its  little  square  of  turf, 
sheltered  by  fir  hedges,  the  sun  was  going 
down  behind  the  Grampians.  Black  massy 
clouds   had   begun   to  gather  in  the   evening, 


HIS   MOTHER'S   SERMON  93 

and  threatened  to  obscure  the  sunset,  which 
was  the  finest  sight  a  Drumtochty  man  was 
ever  likely  to  see,  and  a  means  of  grace  to 
every  sensible  heart  in  the  glen.  But  the  sun 
had  beat  back  the  clouds  on  either  side,  and 
shot  them  through  with  glory  and  now  be- 
tween piled  billows  of  light  he  went  along  a 
shining  pathway  into  the  Gates  of  the  West. 
The  minister  stood  still  before  that  spectacle, 
his  face  bathed  in  the  golden  glory,  and  then 
before  his  eyes  the  gold  deepened  into  an  awful 
red,  and  the  red  passed  into  shades  of  violet 
and  green,  beyond  painter's  hand  or  the  imagi- 
nation of  man.  It  seemed  to  him  as  if  a  vic- 
torious saint  had  entered  through  the  gates  in- 
to the  city,  washed  in  the  blood  of  the  Lamb, 
and  the  after  glow  of  his  mother's  life  fell 
solemnly  on  his  soul.  The  last  trace  of  sun- 
set had  faded  from  the  hills  when  the  minister 
came  in,  and  his  face  was  of  one  who  had  seen 
a  vision.  He  asked  his  aunt  to  have  worship 
with  the  servant,  for  he  must  be  alone  in  his 
study. 

It  was  a  cheerful  room  in  the  daytime,  with 
its  southern  window,  through  which  the  minis- 


94  HIS   MOTHER'S   SERMON 

ter  saw  the  roses  touching  the  very  glass  and 
dwarf  apple  trees  lining  the  garden  walks; 
there  was  also  a  western  window  that  he  might 
watch  each  day  close.  It  was  a  pleasant  room 
now,  when  the  curtains  were  drawn,  and  the 
light  of  the  lamp  fell  on  the  books  he  loved, 
and  which  bade  him  welcome.  One  by  one  he 
had  arranged  the  hard-bought  treasures  of 
student  days  in  the  little  book-case,  and  had 
planned  for  himself  that  sweetest  of  pleasures, 
an  evening  of  desultory  reading.  But  his 
books  went  out  of  mind  as  he  looked  at  the 
sermon  shining  beneath  the  glare  of  the  lamp, 
and  demanding  judgment.  He  had  finished 
its  last  page  with  honest  pride  that  afternoon, 
and  had  declaimed  it,  facing  the  southern  win- 
dow, with  a  success  that  amazed  himself.  His 
hope  was  that  he  might  be  kept  humble,  and 
not  called  to  Edinburgh  for  at  least  two  years ; 
and  now  he  lifted  the  sheets  with  fear.  The 
brilliant  opening,  with  its  historical  parallel, 
this  review  of  modern  thought  reinforced  by 
telling  quotations,  that  trenchant  criticism  of 
old-fashioned  views,  would  not  deliver.  For 
the  audience  had  vanished,  and  left  one  care- 


HIS  MOTHER'S   SERMON  95 

worn,  but  ever  beautiful  face,  whose  gentle 
eyes  were  waiting  with  a  yearning  look.  Twice 
he  crushed  the  sermon  in  his  hands,  and  turned 
to  the  fire  his  aunt's  care  had  kindled,  and 
twice  he  repented  and  smoothed  it  out.  What 
else  could  he  say  now  to  the  people  ?  and  then 
in  the  stillness  of  the  room  he  heard  a  voice, 
"  Speak  a  gude  word  for  Jesus  Christ." 

Next  minute  he  was  kneeling  on  the  hearth, 
and  pressing  the  magnum  opus,  that  was  to 
shake  Drumtochty,  into  the  heart  of  the  red 
fire,  and  he  saw,  half-smiling  and  half-weeping, 
the  impressive  words,  "  Semitic  environment,'* 
shrivel  up  and  disappear.  As  the  last  black 
flake  fluttered  out  of  sight,  the  face  looked  at 
him  again,  but  this  time  the  sweet  brown  eyes 
were  full  of  peace. 

It  was  no  masterpiece,  but  only  the  crude 
production  of  a  lad  who  knew  little  of  letters 
and  nothing  of  the  world.  Very  likely  it  would 
have  done  neither  harm  nor  good,  but  it  was 
his  best,  and  he  gave  it  for  love's  sake,  and  I 
suppose  that  there  is  nothing  in  a  human  life 
so  precious  to  God,  neither  clever  words  nor 
famous  deeds,  as  the  sacrifices  of  love. 


96  HIS   MOTHER'S   SERMON 

The  moon  flooded  his  bedroom  with  silver 
light,  and  he  felt  the  presence  of  his  mother. 
His  bed  stood  ghostly  with  its  white  curtains, 
and  he  remembered  how  every  night  his 
mother  knelt  by  its  side  in  prayer  for  him.  He 
is  a  boy  once  more,  and  repeats  the  Lord's 
Prayer,  then  he  cries  again,  "  My  mother !  my 
mother!"  and  an  indescribable  contentment 
fills  his  heart. 

His  prayer  next  morning  was  very  short,  but 
afterwards  he  stood  at  the  window  for  a  space, 
and  when  he  turned,  his  aunt  said : 

"  Ye  will  get  yir  sermon,  and  it  will  be  worth 
hearing." 

"  How  did  ye  know  ?  " 

But  she  only  smiled,  "  I  heard  you  pray." 

When  he  shut  himself  into  the  study  that 
Saturday  morning,  his  aunt  went  into  her  room 
above,  and  he  knew  she  had  gone  to  intercede 
for  him. 

An  hour  afterwards  he  was  pacing  the  gar- 
den in  such  anxious  thought  that  he  crushed 
with  his  foot  a  rose  lying  on  the  path,  and 
then  she  saw  his  face  suddenly  lighten,  and  he 
hurried  to  the  house,  but  first  he  plucked  a 


HIS   MOTHER'S   SERMON  97 

bunch  of  forget-me-nots.  In  the  evening  she 
found  them  on  his  sermon. 

Two  hours  later — for  still  she  prayed  and 
watched  in  faithfulness  to  mother  and  son — 
she  observed  him  come  out  and  wander  round 
the  garden  in  great  joy.  He  lifted  up  the 
soiled  rose  and  put  it  in  his  coat ;  he  released  a 
butterfly  caught  in  some  mesh ;  he  buried  his 
face  in  fragrant  honeysuckle.  Then  she  un- 
derstood that  his  heart  was  full  of  love, 
and  was  sure  that  it  would  be  well  on  the 
morrow. 

When  the  bell  began  to  ring,  the  minister 
rose  from  his  knees  and  went  to  his  aunt's 
room  to  be  robed,  for  this  was  a  covenant  be- 
tween them. 

His  gown  was  spread  out  in  its  black  silken 
glory,  but  he  sat  down  in  despair. 

"  Auntie,  whatever  shall  we  do,  for  I've  for- 
gotten the  bands  ?" 

"  But  I've  not  forgot  them,  John,  and  here 
are  six  pair  wrought  with  my  own  hands,  and 
now  sit  still  and  I'll  tie  them  round  my  lad- 
die's neck." 

When  she  had  given  the  last  touch,  and  he 
G 


98  HIS  MOTHER'S  SERMON 

was  ready  to  go,  a  sudden  seriousness  fell  upon 
them. 

"  Kiss  me,  auntie." 

"  For  your  mother,  and  her  God  be  with 
you,"  and  then  he  went  through  the  garden 
and  underneath  the  honeysuckle  and  into  the 
kirk,  where  every  Free  Churchman  in  Drum- 
tochty  that  could  get  out  of  bed,  and  half  the 
Established  Kirk,  were  waiting  in  expectation. 

I  sat  with  his  aunt  in  the  minister's  pew,  and 
shall  always  be  glad  that  I  was  at  that  service. 
When  winter  lies  heavy  upon  the  glen  I  go  up- 
on my  travels,  and  in  my  time  have  seen  many 
religious  functions.  I  have  been  in  Mr.  Spur- 
geon's  Tabernacle,  where  the  people  wept  one 
minute  and  laughed  the  next ;  have  heard 
Canon  Liddon  in  St.  Paul's,  and  the  sound  of 
that  high,  clear  voice  is  still  with  me,  "  Awake, 
awake,  put  on  thy  strength,  O  Zion ;"  have 
seen  High  Mass  in  St.  Peter's,  and  stood  in 
the  dusk  of  the  Duomo  at  Florence  when 
Padre  Agostino  thundered  against  the  evils  of 
the  day.  But  I  never  realised  the  unseen 
world  as  I  did  that  day  in  the  Free  Kirk  oi 
Drumtochty. 


HIS  MOTHER'S  SERMON  99 

It  is  impossible  to  analyse  a  spiritual  effect, 
because  it  is  largely  an  atmosphere,  but  certain 
circumstances  assisted.  One  was  instantly  pre- 
possessed in  favour  of  a  young  minister  who 
gave  out  the  second  paraphrase  at  his  first 
service,  for  it  declared  his  filial  reverence  and 
won  for  him  the  blessing  of  a  cloud  of  wit- 
nesses.    No  Scottish  man  can  ever  sing, 

"  God  of  our  fathers,  be  the  God 
Of  their  succeeding  race," 

with  a  dry  heart.  It  satisfied  me  at  once  that 
the  minister  was  of  a  fine  temper  when,  after  a 
brave  attempt  to  join,  he  hid  his  face  and  was 
silent.  We  thought  none  the  worse  of  him 
that  he  was  nervous,  and  two  or  three  old 
people  who  had  suspected  self-sufficiency  took 
him  to  their  hearts  when  the  minister  conclud- 
ed the  Lord's  prayer  hurriedly,  having  omitted 
two  petitions.  But  we  knew  it  was  not  ner- 
vousness which  made  him  pause  for  ten  sec- 
onds after  praying  for  widows  and  orphans, 
and  in  the  silence  which  fell  upon  us  the  Di- 
vine Spirit  had  free  access.  His  youth  com- 
mended him,  since    he  was  also  modest,    for 


ioo  HIS  MOTHER'S  SERMON 

every  mother  had  come  with  an  inartif  ulate 
prayer  that  the  "  puir  laddie  wud  dae  wcel  on 
his  first  day,  and  him  only  twenty-four."  Texts 
I  can  never  remember,  nor,  for  that  matter,  the 
words  of  sermons  ;  but  the  subject  was  Jesus 
Christ,  and  before  he  had  spoken  five  minutes 
I  was  convinced,  who  am  outside  dogmas  and 
churches,  that  Christ  was  present.  The 
preacher  faded  from  before  one's  eyes,  and 
there  rose  the  figure  of  the  Nazarene,  best 
lover  of  every  human  soul,  with  a  face  of 
tender  patience  such  as  Sarto  gave  the  Master 
in  the  Church  of  the  Annunziata,  and  stretch- 
ing out  His  hands  to  old  folk  and  little  chil- 
dren as  He  did,  before  His  death,  in  Galilee. 
His  voice  might  be  heard  any  moment,  as  I 
have  imagined  it  in  my  lonely  hours  by  the 
winter  fire  or  on  the  solitary  hills — soft,  low, 
and  sweet,  penetrating  like  music  to  the  secret 
of  the  heart,  "  Come  unto  Me  .  .  .  and  I  will 
give  you  rest." 

During  a  pause  in  the  sermon  I  glanced  up 
the  church,  and  saw  the  same  spell  held  the 
people.  Donald  Menzies  had  long  ago  been 
caught   into    the  third  heaven,  and  was  now 


HIS  MOTHER'S  SERMON  101 

hearing  words  which  it  is  not  lawful  to  utter. 
Campbell  in  his  watch-tower  at  the  back  had 
closed  his  eyes,  and  was  praying.  The  women 
were  weeping  quietly,  and  the  rugged  faces  of 
our  men  were  subdued  and  softened,  as  when 
the  evening  sun  plays  on  the  granite  stone. 

But  what  will  stand  out  for  ever  before  my 
mind  was  the  sight  of  Marget  Howe.  Her 
face  was  as  white  as  death,  and  her  wonderful 
grey  eyes  were  shining  through  a  mist  of  tears, 
so  that  I  caught  the  light  in  the  manse  pew. 
She  was  thinking  of  George,  and  had  taken  the 
minister  to  her  heart. 

The  elders,  one  by  one,  gripped  the  min- 
ister's hand  in  the  vestry,  and,  though  plain, 
homely  men,  they  were  the  godliest  in  the 
glen ;  but  no  man  spoke  save  Burnbrae. 

"  I  a*  but  lost  ae  fairm  for  the  Free  Kirk,  and 
I  wud  hae  lost  ten  tae  be  in  the  Kirk  this  day." 

Donald  walked  with  me  homewards,  but 
would  only  say : 

"  There  was  a  man  sent  from  God  whose 
name  was  John."  At  the  cottage  he  added, 
"  The  friend  of  the  bridegroom  rejoiced  greatly 
because  of  the  bridegroom's  voice." 


io2  HIS  MOTHER'S  SERMON 

Beneath  the  honeysuckle  at  his  garden  gate 
a  woman  was  waiting. 

"  My  name  is  Marget  Howe,  and  I'm  the 
wife  of  William  Howe  of  Whinnie  Knowe. 
My  only  son  wes  preparin'  for  the  ministry, 
but  God  wanted  him  nearly  a  year  syne. 
When  ye  preached  the  Evangel  o'  Jesus  the 
day  I  heard  his  voice,  and  I  loved  you.  Ye 
hev  nae  mither  on  earth,  I  hear,  and  I  hae  nae 
son,  and  I  wantit  tae  say  that  if  ye  ever  wish 
tae  speak  to  ony  woman  as  ye  wud  tae  yir 
mither,  come  tae  Whinnie  Knowe,  an'  I'll 
coont  it  ane  of  the  Lord's  consolations." 

His  aunt  could  only  meet  him  in  the  study, 
and  when  he  looked  on  her  his  lip  quivered, 
for  his  heart  was  wrung  with  one  wistful  re- 
gret. 

"  Oh,  auntie,  if  she  had  only  been  spared  to 
see  this  day,  and  her  prayers  answered." 

But  his  aunt  flung  her  arms  round  his  neck. 

"Dinna  be  cast  doon,  laddie,  nor  be  unbe- 
lievin'.  Yir  mither  has  heard  every  word,  and 
is  satisfied,  for  ye  did  it  in  remembrance  o'  her, 
and  yon  was  yir  mither's  sermon." 


THE    TRANSFORMATION    OF 
LACHLAN    CAMPBELL 


A  GRAND  INQUISITOR 

The  Free  Kirk  of  Drumtochty  had  no  gal- 
lery,  but  a  section  of  seats  at  the  back  was 
raised  two  feet,  and  any  one  _n  the  first  pew 
might  be  said  to  sit  in  the  "  briest  o*  the  laft." 
When  Lachlan  Campbell  arrived  from  the 
privileged  parish  of  Auchindarroch,  where  the 
"  Men  "  ruled  with  iron  hand  and  no  one  shaved 
on  Sabbath,  he  examined  the  lie  of  country 
with  the  eye  of  a  strategist,  and  seized  at  once 
a  corner  seat  on  the  crest  of  the  hill.  From  this 
vantage  ground,  with  his  back  to  the  wall  and 
a  clear  space  left  between  himself  and  his 
daughter  Flora,  he  had  an  easy  command  of 
the  pulpit,  and  within  six  months  had  been 
constituted  a  court  of  review  neither  minister 
nor  people  could  lightly  disregard.  It  was  not 
that  Lachlan  spoke  hastily  or  at  length,  for  his 
policy  was  generally  a  silence  pregnant  with 


106  LACHLAN   CAMPBELL 

judgment,  and  his  deliverances  were  for  the 
most  part  in  parables,  none  the  less  awful  be- 
cause hard  of  interpretation.  Like  every  true 
Celt,  he  had  the  power  of  reserve,  and  knew 
the  value  of  mystery.  His  voice  must  not  be 
heard  in  irresponsible  gossip  at  the  Kirk  door, 
and  he  never  condescended  to  the  level  of  Mrs. 
MacFadyen,  our  recognised  sermon  taster,  who 
criticised  everything  in  the  technique  of  the 
pulpit,  from  the  number  of  heads  in  a  sermon 
to  the  air  with  which  a  probationer  used  his 
pocket-handkerchief.  She  lived  in  the  eye  of 
the  public,  and  gave  her  opinions  with  the  light 
heart  of  a  newspaper  writer ;  but  Lachlan  kept 
himself  in  the  shadow  and  wore  a  manner  of 
studied  humility  as  became  the  administrator  of 
the  Holy  Office  in  Drumtochty. 

Lachlan  was  a  little  man,  with  a  spare,  wiry 
body,  iron  grey  hair  and  whiskers  carefully 
arranged,  a  keen,  old-fashioned  face  sharpened 
by  much  spiritual  thinking,  and  eyes  that 
looked  at  you  from  beneath  shaggy  eyebrows 
as  from  some  other  world.  His  face  had  an  ir- 
resistible suggestion  of  a  Skye  terrier,  the  most 
serious  of  animals,  with  the  hair  reduced,  and 


A  GRAND   INQUISITOR  107 

Drumsheugh  carried  us  all  with  him  when,  in  a 
moment  of  inspiration,  he  declared  that  "  the 
body  looks  as  if  he  hed  juist  come  oot  o'  the 
Ark."  He  was  a  shepherd  to  trade,  and  very 
faithful  in  all  his  work,  but  his  life  business  was 
theology,  from  Supralapsarianism  in  Election 
to  the  marks  of  faith  in  a  believer's  heart.  His 
library  consisted  of  some  fifty  volumes  of  an- 
cient divinity,  and  lay  on  an  old  oak  kist  close 
to  his  hand,  where  he  sat  beside  the  fire  of  a 
winter  night.  When  the  sheep  were  safe  and 
his  day's  labour  was  over,  he  read  by  the  light 
of  the  fire  and  the  "  crusie"  (oil-lamp)  overhead, 
Witsius  on  the  Covenants,  or  Rutherford's 
"  Christ  Dying,"  or  Bunyan's  "  Grace  Abound- 
ing," or  Owen's  "  130th  Psalm,"  while  the  col- 
lies slept  at  his  feet,  and  Flora  put  the  finishing 
stroke  to  some  bit  of  rustic  finery.  Worship 
was  always  coloured  by  the  evening's  reading, 
but  the  old  man  never  forgot  to  pray  that  they 
both  might  have  a  place  in  the  everlasting 
covenant,  and  that  the  backslidings  of  Scotland 
might  be  healed. 

As  our  inquisitor,  Lachlan  searched  anxiously 
for  sound  doctrine  and  deep  experience,  but  he 


108  LACHLAN   CAMPBELL 

was  not  concerned  about  learning,  and  fluency 
he  regarded  with  disgust.  When  a  young  min- 
ister from  Muirtown  stamped  twice  in  his 
prayer  at  the  Drumtochty  Fast,  and  preached 
with  great  eloquence  from  the  words,  "And 
there  was  no  more  sea,"  repeating  the  text  at 
the  end  of  each  paragraph,  and  concluding  the 
sermon  with  "  Lord  Ullin's  Daughter,"  the  at- 
mosphere round  Lachlan  became  electric,  and 
no  one  dared  to  speak  to  him  outside.  He 
never  expressed  his  mind  on  this  melancholy 
exhibition,  but  the  following  Sabbath  he  ex- 
plained the  principle  on  which  they  elected 
ministers  at  Auchindarroch,  which  was  his 
standard  of  perfection. 

"  Six  young  men  came,  and  they  did  not  sing 
songs  in  the  pulpit.  Oh  no,  they  preached  fery 
well,  and  I  said  to  Angus  Bain,  '  They  are  all 
goot  lads,  and  there  is  nothing  wrong  with 
their  doctrine.' 

"Angus  wassone  of  the  '  Men,'  and  saw  what 
wass  hidden  from  me,  and  he  will  be  saying, 
*  Oh  yes,  they  said  their  lesson  fery  pretty,  but 
I  did  not  see  them  tremble,  Lachlan  Campbell. 
Another  iss  coming,  and  seven  is  a  goot  number.' 


IN  A  FIR  WOOD   PRAYING 


A   GRAND   INQUISITOR  109 

"  It  wass  next  Sabbath  that  he  came,  and  he 
wass  a  white  man,  giving  out  his  text,  *  Blessed 
are  they  which  are  called  unto  the  marriage 
supper  of  the  Lamb/  and  I  wass  thinking  that 
the  Lord  had  laid  too  great  a  burden  on  the 
lad,  and  that  he  could  not  be  fit  for  such  a 
work.  It  wass  not  more  than  ten  minutes  be- 
fore he  will  be  trying  to  tell  us  what  he  wass 
seeing,  and  will  not  hef  the  words.  He  had  to 
go  down  from  the  pulpit  as  a  man  that  had 
been  in  the  heavenly  places  and  wass  stricken 
dumb. 

"  *  It  iss  the  Lord  that  has  put  me  to  shame 
this  day,'  he  said  to  the  elders,  *  and  I  will  nefer 
show  my  face  again  in  Auchindarroch,  for  I 
ought  not  to  have  meddled  with  things  too 
high  for  me. ' 

"  '  You  will  show  your  face  here  every  Sab- 
bath,* answered  Angus  Bain,  •  for  the  Lord 
said  unto  me,  "  Wait  for  the  man  that  trembles 
at  the  Word,  and  iss  not  able  to  speak,  and  it 
will  be  a  sign  unto  you/' '  and  a  fery  goot  min- 
ister he  wass,  and  made  the  hypocrites  in  Zion 
to  be  afraid." 

Lachlan  dealt  tenderly  with  our  young  Free 


no  LACHLAN   CAMPBELL 

Kirk  minister,  for  the  sake  of  his  first  day,  and 
passed  over  some  very  shallow  experience 
without  remark,  but  an  autumn  sermon  roused 
him  to  a  sense  of  duty.  For  some  days  a 
storm  of  wind  and  rain  had  been  stripping  the 
leaves  from  the  trees  and  gathering  them  in 
sodden  heaps  upon  the  ground.  The  minister 
looked  out  on  the  garden  where  many  holy 
thoughts  had  visited  him,  and  his  heart  sank 
like  lead,  for  it  was  desolate,  and  of  all  its 
beauty  there  remained  but  one  rose  clinging  to 
its  stalk,  drenched  and  faded.  It  seemed  as  if 
youth,  with  its  flower  of  promise  and  hope,  had 
been  beaten  down,  and  a  sense  of  loneliness 
fell  on  his  soul.  He  had  no  heart  for  work, 
and  crept  to  bed  broken  and  dispirited.  Dur- 
ing the  night  the  rain  ceased,  and  the  north 
wind  began  to  blow,  which  cleanses  nature  in 
every  pore,  and  braces  each  true  man  for  his 
battle.  The  morrow  was  one  of  those  glorious 
days  which  herald  winter,  and  as  the  minister 
tramped  along  the  road,  where  the  dry  leaves 
crackled  beneath  his  feet,  and  climbed  to  the 
moor  with  he^d  on  high,  the  despair  of  yester- 
day vanished.     The  wind  had  ceased,  and  the 


A   GRAND   INQUISITOR  m 

glen  lay  at  his  feet,  distinct  in  the  cold,  clear 
air,  from  the  dark  mass  of  pines  that  closed  its 
upper  end  to  the  swelling  woods  of  oak  and 
beech  that  cut  it  off  from  the  great  Strath. 
He  had  received  a  warm  welcome  from  all 
kinds  of  people,  and  now  he  marked  with  hu- 
man sympathy  each  little  homestead  with  its 
belt  of  firs  against  the  winter's  storms,  and  its 
stackyard  where  the  corn  had  been  gathered 
safe ;  the  ploughman  and  his  horses  cutting 
brown  ribbons  in  the  bare  stubble;  dark 
squares  where  the  potato  stalks  have  withered 
to  the  ground,  and  women  are  raising  the  roots, 
and  here  and  there  a  few  cattle  still  out  in  the 
fields.  His  eye  fell  on  the  great  wood  through 
which  he  had  rambled  in  August,  now  one 
blaze  of  colour,  rich  green  and  light  yellow, 
with  patches  of  fiery  red  and  dark  purple.  God 
seemed  to  have  given  him  a  sermon,  and  he 
wrote  that  evening,  like  one  inspired,  on  the 
same  parable  of  nature  Jesus  loved,  with  its 
subtle  interpretation  of  our  sorrows,  joys,  trust, 
and  hope.  People  told  me  that  it  was  a 
"  rael  bonnie  sermon,"  and  that  Netherton 
had  forgotten  his  after-sermon  snuff,  although 


ii2  LACHLAN   CAMPBELL 

it  was  his  turn  to  pass  the  box  to  Burn- 
brae. 

The  minister  returned  to  his  study  in  a  fine 
glow  of  body  and  soul,  to  find  a  severe  figure 
standing  motionless  in  the  middle  of  the 
room. 

"  Wass  that  what  you  call  a  sermon  ?  "  said 
Lachlan  Campbell,  without  other  greeting. 

John  Carmichael  was  still  so  full  of  joy  that 
he  did  not  catch  the  tone,  and  explained  with 
college  pedantry  that  it  was  hardly  a  sermon, 
nor  yet  a  lecture. 

"  You  may  call  it  a  meditation." 

"  I  will  be  calling  it  an  essay  without  one 
bite  of  grass  for  starving  sheep." 

Then  the  minister  awoke  from  a  pleasant 
dream,  as  if  one  had  flung  cold  water  on  his 
naked  body. 

"  What  was  wrong  ?  "  with  an  anxious  look 
at  the  stern  little  man  who  of  a  sudden  had 
become  his  judge. 

"There  wass  nothing  right,  for  I  am  not 
thinking  that  trees  and  leaves  and  stubble 
fields  will  save  our  souls,  and  I  did  not  hear 
about   sin   and   repentance   and   the   work  of 


A   GRAND    INQUISITOR  113 

Christ.  It  iss  sound  doctrine  that  we  need, 
and  a  great  peety  you  are  not  giving  it." 

The  minister  had  been  made  much  of  in  col- 
lege circles,  and  had  a  fair  idea  of  himself.  He 
was  a  kindly  lad,  but  he  did  not  see  why  he 
should  be  lectured  by  an  old  Highlandman 
who  read  nothing  except  Puritans,  and  was 
blind  with  prejudice.  When  they  parted  that 
Sabbath  afternoon  it  was  the  younger  man 
that  had  lost  his  temper,  and  the  other  did 
not  offer  to  shake  hands. 

Perhaps  the  minister  would  have  understood 
Lachlan  better  if  he  had  known  that  the  old 
man  could  not  touch  food  when  he  got  home, 
and  spent  the  evening  in  a  fir  wood  praying 
for  the  lad  he  had  begun  to  love.  And  Lach- 
lan would  have  had  a  lighter  heart  if  he  had 
heard  the  minister  questioning  himself  whether 
he  had  denied  the  Evangel  or  sinned  against 
one  of  Christ's  disciples.  They  argued  to- 
gether ;  they  prayed  apart. 

Lachlan  was  careful  to  say  nothing,  but  the 
congregation  felt  that  his  hand  was  against  the 
minister,  and  Burnbrae  took  him  to  task. 

"  Ye  maunna  be  ower  hard  on  him,  Maister 
H 


H4  LACHLAN   CAMPBELL 

Campbell,  for  he's  but  young,  and  comin'  on 
fine.  He  hes  a  hearty  word  for  ilka  body  on 
the  road,  and  the  sicht  o'  his  fresh  young  face 
in  the  poopit  is  a  sermon  itsel'." 

"  You  are  wrong,  Burnbrae,  if  you  will  be 
thinking  that  my  heart  iss  not  warm  to  the 
minister,  for  it  went  out  unto  him  from  the  day 
he  preached  his  first  sermon.  But  the  Lord 
regardeth  not  the  countenance  of  man." 

"  Nae  doot,  nae  doot,  but  I  canna  see  ony- 
thing  wrang  in  his  doctrine ;  it  wudna  be  rea- 
sonable tae  expect  auld-fashioned  sermons  frae 
a  young  man,  and  I  wud  coont  them  barely 
honest.  A'm  no  denying  that  he  gaes  far 
afield,  and  taks  us  tae  strange  lands  when  he's 
on  his  travels,  but  ye  'ill  acknowledge  that  he 
gaithers  mony  treasures,  and  he  aye  comes 
back  tae  Christ." 

"  No,  I  will  not  be  saying  that  John  Car- 
michael  does  not  love  Christ,  for  I  hef  seen  the 
Lord  in  his  sermons  like  a  face  through  a  lat- 
tice. Oh  yes,  and  I  hef  felt  the  fragrance  of 
the  myrrh.  But  I  am  not  liking  his  doctrine, 
and  I  wass  thinking  that  some  day  there  will  be 
no  original  sin  left  in  the  parish  of  Drumtochty." 


A  GRAND  INQUISITOR  115 

It  was  about  this  time  that  the  minister 
made  a  great  mistake,  although  he  was  trying 
to  do  his  best  for  the  people,  and  always 
obeyed  his  conscience.  He  used  to  come  over 
to  the  Cottage  for  a  ramble  through  my  books, 
and  one  evening  he  told  me  that  he  had  pre- 
pared what  he  called  a  "course"  on  Biblical 
criticism,  and  was  going  to  place  Drumtochty 
on  a  level  with  Germany.  It  was  certainly  a 
strange  part  for  me  to  advise  a  minister,  but  I 
had  grown  to  like  the  lad,  because  he  was  full 
of  enthusiasm  and  too  honest  for  this  world, 
and  I  implored  him  to  be  cautious.  Drum- 
tochty  was  not  anxious  to  be  enlightened 
about  the  authors  of  the  Pentateuch,  being 
quite  satisfied  with  Moses,  and  it  was  possible 
that  certain  good  men  in  Drumtochty  might 
resent  any  interference  with  their  herditary 
notions.  Why  could  he  not  read  this  subject 
for  his  own  pleasure,  and  teach  it  quietly  in 
classes?  Why  give  himself  away  in  the  pul- 
pit ?  This  worldly  counsel  brought  the  minis- 
ter to  a  white  heat,  and  he  rose  to  his  feet. 
Had  he  not  been  ordained  to  feed  his  people 
with  truth,  and  was  he  not  bound  to  tell  them 


n6  LACHLAN  CAMPBELL 

all  he  knew?  We  were  living  in  an  age  of 
transition,  and  he  must  prepare  Christ's  folk 
that  they  be  not  taken  unawares.  If  he  failed 
in  his  duty  through  any  fear  of  consequences, 
men  would  arise  afterwards  to  condemn  him 
for  cowardice,  and  lay  their  unbelief  at  his 
door.  When  he  ceased  I  was  ashamed  of  my 
cynical  advice,  and  resolved  never  again  to 
interfere  with  "courses"  or  other  matters 
above  the  lay  mind.  But  greater  knowledge 
of  the  world  had  made  me  a  wise  prophet. 

Within  a  month  the  Free  Kirk  was  in  an  up- 
roar, and  when  I  dropped  in  one  Sabbath  morn- 
ing the  situation  seemed  to  me  a  very  pathetic 
tragedy.  The  minister  was  offering  to  the  hon- 
est country  folk  a  mass  of  immature  and  undi- 
gested details  about  the  Bible,  and  they  were 
listening  with  wearied,  perplexed  faces.  Lach- 
lan  Campbell  sat  grim  and  watchful,  without  a 
sign  of  flinching,  but  even  from  the  Manse  pew 
I  could  detect  the  suffering  of  his  heart.  When 
the  minister  blazed  into  polemic  against  the 
bigotry  of  the  old  school,  the  iron  face  quivered 
as  if  a  father  had  been  struck  by  his  son.  Car- 
michael  looked  thin  and  nervous  in  the  pulpit, 


A   GRAND   INQUISITOR  117 

and  it  came  to  me  that  if  new  views  are  to 
be  preached  to  old-fashioned  people  it  ought  not 
to  be  by  lads  who  are  always  heady  and  intoler- 
ant, but  by  a  stout  man  of  middle  age,  with  a 
rich  voice  and  a  good-natured  manner.  Had 
Carmichael  rasped  and  girded  much  longer, 
one  would  have  believed  in  the  inspiration  of 
the  vowel  points,  and  I  left  the  church  with  a 
low  heart,  for  this  was  a  woeful  change  from 
his  first  sermon. 

Lachlan  would  not  be  pacified,  not  even  by 
the  plea  of  the  minister's  health. 

"  Oh  yes,  I  am  seeing  that  he  is  ill,  and  I 
will  be  as  sorry  as  any  man  in  Drumtochty. 
But  it  iss  not  too  much  work,  as  they  are 
saying ;  it  iss  the  judgment  of  God.  It  iss  not 
goot  to  meddle  with  Moses,  and  John  Car- 
michael will  be  knowing  that.  His  own  sister 
wass  not  respectful  to  Moses,  and  she  will  not 
be  feeling  fery  well  next  day." 

But  Burnbrae  added  that  the  "auld  man 
cudna  be  mair  cast  doon  if  he  hed  lost  his 
dochter." 

The  peace  of  the  Free  Kirk  had  been  broken, 
and  the  minister  was  eating  out  his  heart,  when 


n8  LACHLAN   CAMPBELL 

he  remembered  the  invitation  of  Marget  Howe, 
and  went  one  sweet  spring  day  to  Whinnie 
Knowe. 

Marget  met  him  with  her  quiet  welcome  at 
the  garden  gate. 

"  Ye  hae  dune  me  a  great  kindness  in  comin', 
Maister  Carmichael,  and  if  ye  please  we  'ill  sit 
in  this  sunny  corner  which  is  dear  tae  me,  and 
ye  'ill  tell  me  yir  troubles." 

So  they  sat  down  together  beside  the  brier 
bush,  and  after  one  glance  at  Marget's  face  the 
minister  opened  his  heart,  and  told  her  the 
great  controversy  with  Lachlan. 

Marget  lifted  her  head  as  one  who  had  heard 
of  some  brave  deed,  and  there  was  a  ring  in 
her  voice. 

"It  maks  me  prood  before  God  that  there 
are  twa  men  in  Drumtochty  who  follow  their 
conscience  as  king,  and  coont  truth  dearer  than 
their  ain  freends.  It's  peetifu'  when  God's 
bairns  fecht  through  greed  and  envy,  but  it's 
hertsome  when  they  are  wullin'  tae  wrestle 
aboot  the  Evangel,  for  surely  the  end  o'  it  a* 
maun  be  peace. 

MA've  often  thocht  that  in  the  auld  days 


A  GRAND   INQUISITOR  119 

baith  the  man  on  the  rack  and  the  inqueesitor 
himself  micht  be  gude  men  and  accepted  o' 
God,  and  maybe  the  inqueesitor  suffered  mair 
than  the  martyr.  A'm  thinkin',  Maister  Car- 
michael,  that  it's  been  hardest  on  Lachlan." 

The  minister's  head  was  buried  in  his  hands, 
but  his  heart  was  with  Marget. 

"  It's  a  strange  buik  the  Bible,  and  no  the 
buik  we  wud  hae  made,  tae  judge  by  oor  bit 
creeds  and  confessions.  It's  like  a  head  o'  aits 
in  the  harvest  time.  There's  the  ear  that 
hauds  the  grain  and  keeps  it  safe,  and  that's 
the  history,  and  there's  often  no  mickle  nutri- 
ment in  it;  then  there's  the  corn  lying  in  the 
ear,  which  is  the  Evangel  frae  Eden  tae 
Revelation,  and  that  is  the  bread  V  the  soul. 
But  the  corn  maun  be  threshed  first  and  the 
cauf  (chaff)  cleaned  aff.  It's  a  bonnie  sicht  tae 
see  the  pure  grain  fallin'  like  a  rinnin'  burn  on 
the  corn-room  floor,  and  a  glint  o'  the  sun 
through  the  window  turning  it  intae  gold.  But 
the  stour  (dust)  o'  the  cauf  room  is  mair  than 
onybody  can  abide,  and  the  cauf's  worth 
naethin'  when  the  corn's  awa." 

"Ye  mean,"   said  the   minister,   "that  my 


120  LACHLAN  CAMPBELL 

study  is  the  threshin'  mill,  and  that  some  of 
the  chaff  has  got  into  the  pulpit." 

"  Yir  no  offended,"  and  Marget's  voice  trem- 
bled. 

Then  the  minister  lifted  his  head  and  laughed 
aloud  with  joy,  while  a  swift  flash  of  humour  lit 
up  Marget's  face. 

"  You've  been  the  voice  of  God  to  me  this 
day,  Mrs.  Howe,  but  if  I  give  up  my  '  course,' 
the  people  will  misunderstand,  for  I  know 
everything  I  gave  was  true,  and  I  would  give 
it  all  again  if  it  were  expedient." 

"  Nae  fear,  .  Maister  Carmichael,  naebody 
misunderstands  that  luves,  and  the  fouk  all 
luve  ye,  and  the  man  that  hauds  ye  dearest 
is  Lachlan  Campbell.  I  saw  the  look  in  his 
een  that  canna  be  mista'en." 

"  I'll  go  to  him  this  very  day,"  and  the  min» 
ister  leaped  to  his  feet. 

"  Ye  'ill  no  regret  it,"  said  Marget,  "  for  God 
will  give  ye  peace." 

Lachlan  did  not  see  the  minister  coming,  for 
he  was  busy  with  a  lamb  that  had  lost  its  way 
and  hurt  itself.  Carmichael  marked  with  a 
growing  tenderness  at  his  heart  how  gently  the 


A  GRAND    INQUISITOR  121 

old  man  washed  and  bound  up  the  wounded 
leg,  all  the  time  crooning  to  the  frightened 
creature  in  the  sweet  Gaelic  speech,  and  also 
how  he  must  needs  give  the  lamb  a  drink  of 
warm  milk  before  he  set  it  free. 

When  he  rose  from  his  work  of  mercy,  he 
faced  the  minister. 

For  an  instant  Lachlan  hesitated,  and  then 
at  the  look  on  Carmichael's  face  he  held  out 
both  his  hands. 

"  This  iss  a  goot  day  for  me,  and  I  bid  you 
ten  thousand  welcomes." 

But  the  minister  took  the  first  word. 

"  You  and  I,  Lachlan,  have  not  seen  eye  to 
eye  about  some  things  lately,  and  I  am  not 
here  to  argue  which  is  nearer  the  truth,  because 
perhaps  we  may  always  differ  on  some  lesser 
matters.  But  once  I  spoke  rudely  to  you,  and 
often  I  have  spoken  unwisely  in  my  sermons. 
You  are  an  old  man  and  I  am  a  young,  and 
I  ask  you  to  forgive  me  and  to  pray  that 
both  of  us  may  be  kept  near  the  heart  of 
our  Lord,  whom  we  love,  and  who  loves 
us. 

No  man  can  be  so  courteous  as  a  Celt,  and 


122  LACHLAN  CAMPBELL 

Lachlan  was  of  the  pure  Highland  breed,  kind- 
est of  friends,  fiercest  of  foes. 

"You  hef  done  a  beautiful  deed  this  day, 
Maister  Carmichael ;  and  the  grace  of  God 
must  hef  been  exceeding  abundant  in  your 
heart.  It  iss  this  man  that  asks  your  forgive- 
ness, for  I  wass  full  of  pride,  and  did  not  speak 
to  you  as  an  old  man  should ;  but  God  iss  my 
witness  that  I  would  hef  plucked  out  my  right 
eye  for  your  sake.  You  will  say  every  word 
God  gives  you,  and  I  will  take  as  much  as  God 
gives  me,  and  there  will  be  a  covenant  between 
us  as  long  as  we  live." 

They  knelt  together  on  the  earthen  floor  of 
that  Highland  cottage,  the  old  school  and  the 
new,  before  one  Lord,  and  the  only  difference 
in  their  prayers  was  that  the  young  man  prayed 
they  might  keep  the  faith  once  delivered  unto 
the  saints,  while  the  burden  of  the  old  man's 
prayer  was  that  they  might  be  led  into  all 
truth. 

Lachlan's  portion  that  evening  ought  to 
have  been  the  slaying  of  Sisera  from  the  Book 
of  Judges,  but  instead  he  read,  to  Flora's 
amazement — it  was  the  night  before  she  left 


A   GRAND   INQUISITOR  123 

her  home — the  thirteenth  chapter  of  1  Corinth- 
ians, and  twice  he  repeated  to  himself,  "  Now 
we  see  through  a  glass  darkly,  but  then  face  to 
face." 


II 

HIS   BITTER   SHAME 

The  Free  Kirk  people  were  very  proud  of 
their  vestry  because  the  Established  Church 
had  none,  and  because  it  was  reasonably  sup- 
posed to  be  the  smallest  in  Scotland.  When 
the  minister,  who  touched  five  feet  eleven,  and 
the  beadle,  who  was  three  inches  taller,  assem- 
bled for  the  procession,  with  the  precentor,  a 
man  of  fair  proportions,  there  was  no  waste 
ground  in  that  room,  and  any  messenger  from 
the  church  door  had  to  be  selected  with  judg- 
ment. "  Step  up,  Airchie  man,  tae  the  vestry," 
Burnbrae  would  say  to  the  one  under-sized 
man  in  Drumtochty,  "  and  tell  the  minister  no 
tae  forget  the  Jews.  Ye  can  birse  (push)  in 
fine,  but  it  wud  beat  me  to  get  by  the  door. 
It's  a  bonnie  bit  room,  but  three  fouk  stannin' 
maks  it  contrakit  for  another  man." 


HIS   BITTER  SHAME  125 

It  was  eight  feet  by  eight,  and  consisted 
largely  of  two  doors  and  a  fireplace,  and  its 
chief  glory  was  a  portrait  of  Dr.  Chalmers, 
whose  face,  dimly  seen  in  the  light  of  the  lamp, 
was  a  charter  of  authority,  and  raised  the  pro- 
ceedings to  the  level  of  history.  Lockers  on 
either  side  of  the  mantelpiece  contained  the 
church  library,  which  abounded  in  the  lives  of 
Scottish  worthies,  and  was  never  lightly  dis- 
turbed. Where  there  was  neither  grate  nor 
door,  a  narrow  board  ran  along  the  wall,  on 
which  it  was  simply  a  point  of  honour  to  seat 
the  twelve  deacons,  who  met  once  a  month  to 
raise  the  Sustentation  Fund  by  modest,  heroic 
sacrifices  of  hard-working  people,  and  to  keep 
the  slates  on  the  church  roof  in  winter.  When 
they  had  nothing  else  to  do,  they  talked  about 
the  stove  which  "  came  out  in  '43, "  and,  when 
it  was  in  good  humour,  would  raise  the  tem- 
perature in  winter  one  degree  above  freezing. 
Seating  the  court  was  a  work  of  art,  and  could 
only  be  achieved  by  the  repression  of  the 
smaller  men,  who  looked  out  from  the  loop- 
holes of  retreat,  the  projection  of  bigger  men 
on  to  their  neighbours'  knees,  and  the  absolute 


126  LACHLAN   CAMPBELL 

elimination  of  Archie  Moncur,  whose  voice 
made  motions  on  temperance  from  the  lowest 
depths.  Netherton  was  always  the  twelfth 
man  to  arrive,  and  nothing  could  be  done  till 
he  was  safely  settled.  Only  some  six  inches 
were  reserved  at  the  end  of  the  bench,  and  he 
was  a  full  sitter,  but  he  had  discovered  a  trick  of 
sitting  sideways  and  screwing  his  leg  against 
the  opposite  wall,  that  secured  the  court  as 
well  as  himself  in  their  places  on  the  principle 
of  a  compressed  spring.  When  this  operation 
was  completed,  Burnbrae  used  to  say  to  the 
minister,  who  sat  in  the  middle  on  a  cane  chair 
before  the  tiniest  of  tables — the  living  was 
small,  and  the  ministers  never  grew  fat  till 
they  left— 

"  We're  fine  and  comfortable  noo,  Modera- 
tor, and  ye  can  begin  business  as  sune  as  ye 
like." 

As  there  were  only  six  elders  they  could  sit 
in  state,  besides  leaving  a  vacant  space  for  any 
penitents  who  came  to  confess  their  sins  and 
receive  absolution,  or  some  catechumen  who 
wished  to  be  admitted  to  the  sacrament.  Car- 
michael  used  to  say  that  a  meeting  of  Session 


HIS   BITTER   SHAME  127 

affected  his  imagination,  and  would  have  made 
an  interior  for  Rembrandt.  On  one  side  of 
the  table  sat  the  men  who  represented  the 
piety  of  the  district,  and  were  supposed  to  be 
"  far  ben"  in  the  Divine  fellowship,  and  on  the 
other  some  young  girl  in  her  loneliness,  who 
wrung  her  handkerchief  in  terror  of  this  dread- 
ed spiritual  court,  and  hoped  within  her  heart 
that  no  elder  would  ask  her  "  effectual  calling" 
from  the  Shorter  Catechism ;  while  the  little 
lamp,  hanging  from  the  ceiling,  and  swinging 
gently  in  the  wind  that  had  free  access  from 
every  airt,  cast  a  fitful  light  on  the  fresh,  tear- 
ful face  of  the  girl  and  the  hard,  weather-beat- 
en countenances  of  the  elders,  composed  into 
a  serious  gravity  not  untouched  by  tenderness. 
They  were  little  else  than  labouring  men,  but 
no  one  was  elected  to  that  court  unless  he  had 
given  pledges  of  godliness,  and  they  bore  them- 
selves as  men  who  had  the  charge  of  souls. 

The  little  Sanhedrim  had  within  it  the  school 
of  Hillel,  which  was  swayed  by  mercy,  and  its 
Rabbi  was  Burnbrae  ;  and  the  school  of  Sham- 
mai,  whose  rule  was  inflexible  justice,  and  its 
Rabbi  was  Lachlan  Campbell.     Burnbrae  was 


128  LACHLAN   CAMPBELL 

a  big-hearted  man,  with  a  fatherly  manner,  and 
had  a  genius  for  dealing  with  "  young  communi- 
cants." 

"  Weel,  Jessie,  we're  awfu  pleased  tae  think 
yer  gaein*  forrit,  and  the  Dominie  wes  tellin'  me 
juist  last  week  that  ye  did  yir  work  at  schule 
graund,  and  knew  yir  Bible  frae  end  tae  end. 

"  It'll  no  be  easy  to  speir  (ask)  the  like  o' 
you  questions,  but  ye  mind  Abraham,  Jessie." 

"Ou  ay,"  and  Jessie  is  all  alert,  although 
she  is  afraid  to  look  up. 

"  What  was  the  name  o'  his  wife,  noo  ?  " 

"  Sarah,  an'  their  son  was  Isaac." 

"  That's  richt,  and  what  aboot  Isaac's  wife  ?  " 

"  Isaac  mairrit  Rebecca,  and  they  hed  twa 
sons,  Jacob  and  Esau,"  and  the  girl  takes  a  shy 
glance  at  the  honest  elder,  and  begins  to  feel 
at  home. 

"  Domsie  wesna  far  wrang,  a'  see,  but  it's  no 
possible  ye  cud  tell  us  the  names  o'  Jacob's 
sons;  it's  maybe  no  fair  tae  ask  sic  a  teuch 
question,"  knowing  all  the  while  that  this  was 
a  test  case  of  Domsie's. 

When  Jessie  reached  Benjamin,  Burnbrae 
could  not  contain  himself. 


HIS   BITTER   SHAME  129 

"  It's  nae  use  trying  to  stick  Jessie  wi'  the 
Bible,  neeburs ;  we  'ill  see  what  she  can  dae  wi' 
the  Carritches  (Catechism).  Yir  no  the  lassie 
that  said  the  questions  frae  beginning  tae  end 
wi'  twa  mistaks,  are  ye  ?  " 

Yes,  she  was,  and  dared  him  to  come  on,  for 
Jessie  has  forgotten  the  minister  and  all  the 
Session. 

"  The  elders  wud  like  tae  hear  '  What  is  the 
Lord's  Supper?'  " 

"That's  it ;  and,  Jessie,  ma  woman,  gie's  the 
'  worthy  receiving.' " 

Jessie  achieves  another  triumph,  and  is  now 
ready  for  anything. 

"  Ye  hae  the  Word  weel  stored  in  yir 
mind,  lassie,  and  ye  maun  keep  it  in  yir  life, 
and  dinna  forget  that  Christ's  a  gude  Mais- 
ter." 

"  A'll  dae  ma  best,"  and  Jessie  declared  that 
Burnbrae  had  been  as  kind  as  if  she  had  been 
"  his  ain  bairn,"  and  that  she  "  wasna  feared 
ava."  But  her  trial  is  not  over ;  the  worst  is 
to  come. 

Lachlan  began  where  Burnbrae  ended,  and 
very  soon  had  Jessie  on  the  rack. 
I 


130  LACHLAN   CAMPBELL 

"  How  old  will  you  be  ?  " 

"  Auchteen  next  Martinmas." 

"  And  why  will  you  be  coming  to  the  sacra- 
ment ?  " 

"  Ma  mither  thocht  it  was  time,"  with  a 
threatening  of  tears  as  she  looked  at  the  face 
in  the  corner. 

"  Ye  will  maybe  tell  the  Session  what  hass 
been  your  '  lawwork'  and  how  long  ye  hef  been 
at  Sinai." 

"  A'  dinna  ken  what  yir  askin\  I  was  never 
oot  o'  Drumtochty,"  and  Jessie  breaks  down 
utterly. 

"  A*  dinna  think,  Moderator,  we  ocht  tae  ask 
sic  questions,"  broke  in  Burnbrae,  who  could 
not  see  a  little  one  put  to  confusion  ;  "  an'  I 
canna  mind  them  in  the  Gospels.  There's  ae 
commandment  Jessie  keeps  weel,  as  a'  can  tes- 
teefy,  and  that's  the  fifth,  for  there's  no  a  bet- 
ter dochter  in  Drumtochty.  A'  move,  Moder- 
ator, she  get  her  token ;  dinna  greet,  puir 
woman,  for  ye've  dune  weel,  and  the  Session's 
rael  satisfeed." 

"  It  wass  Dr.  John's  mark  I  wass  trying  the 
girl  by,"   explained  Lachlan  after  Jessie  had 


THE   VILLAGE   SHOP 


HIS  BITTER   SHAME  131 

gone  away  comforted.  "  And  it  iss  a  goot 
mark,  oh  yes,  and  very  searching. 

"  Ye  Will  maybe  not  know  what  it  iss,  Mod- 
erator," and  Lachlan  regarded  the  minister 
with  austere  superiority,  for  it  was  the  winter 
of  the  feud. 

No,  he  did  not,  nor  any  of  the  Session,  be- 
ing all  douce  Scotchmen,  except  Donald  Men- 
zies  who  was  at  home  fighting  the  devil. 

"  It  iss  broken  bones,  and  Dr.  John  did 
preach  three  hours  upon  it  at  Auchindarroch 
Fast,  and  there  wass  not  many  went  to  the 
Sacrament  on  that  occasion. 

"  Broken  bones  iss  a  fine  mark  to  begin  with, 
and  the  next  will  be  doubts.  But  there  iss  a 
deeper,"  continued  Lachlan,  warming  to  his 
subject,  "  oh  yes,  far  deeper,  and  I  heard  of  it 
when  I  wass  North  for  the  sheep,  and  I  will 
not  be  forgetting  that  day  with  Janet  Mac- 
farlane. 

"  I  knew  she  wass  a  professor,  and  I  wass 
looking  for  her  marks.  But  it  wass  not  for  me 
to  hef  been  searching  her ;  it  wass  that  woman 
that  should  hef  been  trying  me." 

A  profound  silence  wrapt  the  Session. 


i32  LACHLAN   CAMPBELL 

"  '  Janet/  I  said,  *  hef  ye  had  many  doubts  f 

" '  Doubts,  Lachlan  ?  was  that  what  you 
asked  ?  I  hef  had  desertions,  and  one  will  be 
for  six  months/ 

"  So  I  saw  she  wass  far  beyond  me,  for  I 
dare  not  be  speaking  about  desertions." 

Two  minutes  after  the  minister  pronounced 
the  benediction,  and  no  one  had  offered  any 
remark  in  the  interval. 

It  seemed  to  the  elders  that  Lachlan  dealt 
hardly  with  young  people  and  those  that  had 
gone  astray,  but  they  learned  one  evening  that 
his  justice  had  at  least  no  partiality.  Burn- 
brae  said  afterwards  that  Lachlan  "  looked  like 
a  ghaist  comin'  in  at  the  door,"  but  he  sat  in 
silence  in  the  shadow,  and  no  one  marked  the 
agony  on  his  face  till  the  end. 

"  If  that  iss  all  the  business,  Moderator,  I  hef 
to  bring  a  case  of  discipline  before  the  Session, 
and  ask  them  to  do  their  duty.  It  iss  known 
to  me  that  a  young  woman  who  hass  been  a 
member  of  this  church  hass  left  her  home  and 
gone  into  the  far  country.  There  will  be  no 
use  in  summoning  her  to  appear  before  the 
Session,  for  she  will  never  be  seen  again  in  this 


HIS   BITTER   SHAME  133 

parish.  I  move  that  she  be  cut  off  from  the 
roll,  and  her  name  iss  " — and  Lachlan's  voice 
broke,  but  in  an  instant  he  recovered  himself — 
"  her  name  iss  Flora  Campbell." 

Carmichael  confessed  to  me  that  he  was 
stricken  dumb,  and  that  Lachlan's  ashen  face 
held  him  with  an  awful  fascination. 

It  was  Burnbrae  that  first  found  a  voice, 
and  showed  that  night  the  fine  delicacy  of 
heart  that  may  be  hidden  behind  a  plain  ex- 
terior. 

"  Moderator,  this  is  a  terrible  calamity  that 
hes  befaen  oor  brither,  and  a'm  feelin'  as  if  a* 
hed  lost  a  bairn  o'  my  ane,  for  a  sweeter  lassie 
didna  cross  oor  kirk  door.  Nane  o*  us  want 
tae  know  what  hes  happened  or  where  she  hes 
gane,  and  no  a  word  o'  this  wull  cross  oor  lips. 
Her  faither's  dune  mair  than  cud  be  expeckit 
o'  mortal  man,  and  noo  we  have  oor  duty. 
It's  no  the  way  o'  this  Session  tae  cut  aff  ony 
member  o'  the  flock  at  a  stroke,  and  we  'ill  no 
begin  with  Flora  Campbell.  A'  move,  Moder- 
ator, that  her  case  be  left  tae  her  faither  and 
yersel,  and  oor  neebur  may  depend  on  it  that 
Flora's  name  and  his  ain  will   be  mentioned  in 


134  LACHLAN   CAMPBELL 

oor  prayers,  ilka  mornin'  an*  nicht  till  the  gude 
Shepherd  o'  the  sheep  brings  her  hame." 

Burnbrae  paused,  and  then,  with  tears  in  his 
voice — men  do  not  weep  in  Drumtochty — 
"  With  the  Lord  there  is  mercy,  and  with  Him 
is  plenteous  redemption." 

The  minister  took  the  old  man's  arm  and  led 
him  into  the  manse,  and  set  him  in  the  big 
chair  by  the  study  fire.  "  Thank  God,  Lach- 
lan,  we  are  friends  now ;  tell  me  about  it  as  if 
I  were  your  son  and  Flora's  brother." 

The  father  took  a  letter  out  of  an  inner 
pocket  with  a  trembling  hand,  and  this  is  what 
Carmichael  read  by  the  light  of  the  lamp : — 

"  Dear  Father, — When  this  reaches  you  I 
will  be  in  London,  and  not  worthy  to  cross 
your  door.  Do  not  be  always  angry  with  me, 
and  try  to  forgive  me,  for  you  will  not  be 
troubled  any  more  by  my  dancing  or  dressing. 
Do  not  think  that  I  will  be  blaming  you,  for 
you  have  been  a  good  father  to  me,  and  said 
what  you  would  be  considering  right,  but  it  is 
not  easy  for  a  man  to  understand  a  girl.  Oh, 
if  I  had  had  my  mother,  then  she  would  have 


HIS   BITTER   SHAME  135 

understood  me,  and  I  would  not  have  crossed 
you.  Forget  poor  Flora's  foolishness,  but  you 
will  not  forget  her,  and  maybe  you  will  still 
pray  for  me.  Take  care  of  the  geraniums  for 
my  sake,  and  give  milk  to  the  lamb  that  you 
called  after  me.  I  will  never  see  you  again,  in 
this  world  or  the  next  nor  my  mother  .... 
(here  the  letter  was  much  blotted).  When  I 
think  that  there  will  be  no  one  to  look  after 
you,  and  have  the  fire  burning  for  you  on  win- 
ter nights,  I  will  be  rising  to  come  back.  But 
it  is  too  late,  too  late.  Oh,  the  disgrace  I  will 
be  bringing  on  you  in  the  glen. — Your  un- 
worthy daughter,  FLORA  CAMPBELL." 

"  This  is  a  fiery  trial,  Lachlan,  and  I  cannot 
even  imagine  what  you  are  suffering.  But  do 
not  despair,  for  that  is  not  the  letter  of  a  bad 
girl.  Perhaps  she  was  impatient,  and  has  been 
led  astray.  But  Flora  is  good  at  heart,  and 
you  must  not  think  she  is  gone  forever." 

Lachlan  groaned,  the  first  moan  he  had 
made,  and  then  he  tottered  to  his  feet. 

"  You  are  fery  kind,  Maister  Carmichael,  and 
so  wass  Burnbrae,  and  I  will  be   thankful   to 


136  LACHLAN   CAMPBELL 

you  all,  but  you  do  not  understand.  Oh  no, 
you  do  not  understand."  Lachlan  caught 
hold  of  a  chair  and  looked  the  minister  in  the 
face. 

"  She  hass  gone,  and  there  will  be  no  coming 
back.  You  would  not  take  her  name  from  the 
roll  of  the  church,  and  I  will  not  be  meddling 
with  that  book.  But  I  hef  blotted  out  her 
name  from  my  Bible,  where  her  mother's  name 
iss  written  and  mine.  She  has  wrought  con- 
fusion in  Israel  and  in  an  elder's  house,  and 
I  ....  I  hef  no  danghter.  But  I  loved  her  ; 
she  nefer  knew  how  I  loved  her,  for  her 
mother  would  be  looking  at  me  from  her 
eyes." 

The  minister  walked  with  Lachlan  to  the 
foot  of  the  hill  on  which  his  cottage  stood,  and 
after  they  had  shaken  hands  in  silence,  he 
watched  the  old  man's  figure  in  the  cold  moon- 
light till  he  disappeared  into  the  forsaken 
home,  where  the  fire  had  gone  out  on  the 
hearth,  and  neither  love  nor  hope  were  waiting 
for  a  broken  heart. 

The  railway  did  not  think  it  worth  while  to 
come  to  Drumtochty,  and  we  were  cut  off  from 


HIS   BITTER  SHAME  137 

the  lowlands  by  miles  of  forest,  so  our  manners 
retained  the  fashion  of  the  former  age.  Six 
elders,  besides  the  minister,  knew  the  tragedy 
of  Flora  Campbell,  and  never  opened  their  lips. 
Mrs.  Macfadyen,  who  was  our  newspaper,  and 
understood  her  duty,  refused  to  pry  into  this 
secret.  The  pity  of  the  glen  went  out  to 
Lachlan,  but  no  one  even  looked  a  question  as 
he  sat  alone  in  his  pew  or  came  down  on  a 
Saturday  afternoon  to  the  village  shop  for  his 
week's  provisions.  London  friends  thought 
me  foolish  about  my  adopted  home,  but  I 
asked  them  whether  they  could  find  such  per- 
fect good  manners  in  Belgravia,  and  they  were 
silent.  My  Drumtochty  neighbours  would 
have  played  an  awkward  part  in  a  drawing- 
room,  but  never  have  I  seen  in  all  my  wander- 
ings men  and  women  of  truer  courtesy  or 
tenderer  heart. 

"  It  gars  ma  hert  greet  tae  see  him,"  Mrs. 
Macfadyen  said  to  me  one  day,  "  sae  booed  an' 
disjackit,  him  that  wes  that  snod  (tidy)  and 
firm.  His  hair's  turned  white  in  a  month,  and 
he's  awa'  tae  naething  in  his  claithes.  But 
least  said  is  sunest  mended.     It's  no  richt  tae 


138  LACHLAN  CAMPBELL 

interfere  wi'  another's  sorrow,  an'  it  wad  be  an 
awfu'  sin  tae  misca'  a  young  lassie.  We  maun 
juist  houp  that  Flora  '11  sune  come  back,  for  if 
she  disna  Lachlan  'ill  no  be  lang  wi's.  He's 
sayin'  naethin',  and  a'  respeck  him  for't ;  but 
onybody  can  see  that  his  hert  is  breal^in'." 

We  were  helpless  till  Marget  Howe  met 
Lachlan  in  the  shop  and  read  his  sorrow  at  a 
glance.  She  went  home  to  Whinnie  Knowe  in 
great  distress. 

"It  wes  waesome  tae  see  the  auld  man 
githerin'  his  bit  things  wi'  a  shakin'  hand,  and 
speakin'  tae  me  aboot  the  weather,  and  a'  the 
time  his  eyes  were  sayin',  '  Flora,  Flora.' " 

"  Whar  div  ye  think  the  young  hizzie  is, 
Marget?" 

"  Naebody  needs  tae  know,  Weelum,  an'  ye 
maunna  speak  that  way,  for  whatever's  come 
ower  her,  she's  dear  to  Lachlan  and  tae  God. 

"  It's  laid  on  me  tae  veesit  Lachlan,  for  a'm 
thinking  oor  Father  didna  comfort  us  withoot 
expeckin'  that  we  wud  comfort  other  fouk." 

When  Marget  came  round  the  corner  of 
Lachlan's  cottage,  she  found  Flora's  plants  laid 
out  in  the  sun,  and  her  father  watering  them 


HIS   BITTER   SHAME  139 

on  his  knees.  One  was  ready  to  die,  and  for  it 
he  had  made  a  shelter  with  his  plaid. 

He  was  taken  unawares,  but  in  a  minute  he 
was  leading  Marget  in  with  hospitable  words. 

"  It  iss  kind  of  you  to  come  to  an  old  man's 
house,  Mistress  Howe,  and  it  iss  a  fery  warm 
day.  You  will  not  care  for  speerits,  but  I  am 
fery  goot  at  making  tea." 

Marget  was  not  as  other  women,  and  she 
spoke  at  once. 

"  Maister  Campbell,  ye  will  believe  that  I 
hev  come  in  the  love  of  God,  and  because  we 
hev  baith  been  afflickit.  I  had  ae  son,  and  he 
is  gone ;  ye  had  a  dochter,  and  she  is  gone.  A* 
ken  where  George  is,  and  am  sateesfied.  A* 
doot  sairly  yir  sorrow  is  deeper  than  mine." 

"  Would  to  God  that  she  wass  lying  in  the 
kirkyard  ;  but  I  will  not  speak  of  her.  She  iss 
not  anything  to  me  this  day.  See,  I  will  show 
you  what  I  hef  done,  for  she  hass  been  a  black 
shame  to  her  name." 

He  opened  the  Bible,  and  there  was  Flora's 
name  scored  with  wavering  strokes,  but  the  ink 
had  run  as  if  it  had  been  mingled  with  tears. 

Marget's   heart   burned    within    her  at   the 


i4o  LACHLAN   CAMPBELL 

sight,  and  perhaps  she  could  hardly  make  al- 
lowance for  Lachlan's  blood  and  theology. 

"  This  is  what  ye  hev  dune,  and  ye  let  a 
woman  see  yir  wark.  Ye  are  an  auld  man,  and 
in  sore  travail,  but  a'  tell  ye  before  God  ye  hae 
the  greater  shame.  Juist  twenty  years  o'  age 
this  spring,  and  her  mither  dead.  Nae  woman 
to  watch  over  her,  and  she  wandered  frae  the 
fold,  and  a'  ye  can  dae  is  to  tak  her  oot  o'  yir 
Bible.  Waes  me  if  oor  Father  had  blotted  out 
oor  names  frae  the  Book  o'  Life  when  we  left 
His  hoose.  But  He  sent  His  ain  Son  to  seek 
us,  an'  a  weary  road  He  cam.  A*  tell  ye,  a  man 
wudna  leave  a  sheep  tae  perish  as  ye  hae  cast  aff 
yir  ain  bairn.  Yir  worse  than  Simon  the  Phari- 
see, for  Mary  was  nae  kin  tae  him.  Puir 
Flora,  tae  hae  sic  a  father." 

"  Who  will  be  telling  you  that  I  wass  a 
Pharisee?"  cried  Lachlan,  quivering  in  every 
limb,  and  grasping  Marget's  arm. 

"  Forgie  me,  Lachlan,  forgie  me.  It  was  the 
thocht  o*  the  misguided  lassie  carried  me,  for  a' 
didna  come  tae  upbraid  ye." 

But  Lachlan  had  sunk  into  a  chair  and  had 
forgotten  her. 


HIS    BITTER   SHAME  141 

"  She  hass  the  word,  and  God  will  hef  smit> 
ten  the  pride  of  my  heart,  for  it  iss  Simon  that 
I  am.  I  wass  hard  on  my  child,  and  I  wass 
hard  on  the  minister,  and  there  wass  none  like 
me.  The  Lord  has  laid  my  name  in  the  dust, 
and  I  will  be  angry  with  her.  But  she  iss  the 
scapegoat  for  my  sins,  and  hass  gone  into  the 
desert.  God  be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner."  And 
then  Marget  understood  no  more,  for  the  rest 
was  in  Gaelic,  but  she  heard  Flora's  name  with 
another  she  took  to  be  her  mother's  twined 
together. 

So  Marget  knew  it  would  be  well  with  Lach- 
lan  yet,  and  she  wrote  this  letter : 

"  My  Dear  Lassie, — Ye  ken  that  I  wes  aye 
yir  freend,  and  I  am  writing  this  tae  say  that 
yir  father  luves  ye  mair  than  ever,  and  is 
wearing  oot  his  hert  for  the  sicht  o'  yir  face. 
Come  back,  or  he'll  dee  thro'  want  o'  his  bairn. 
The  glen  is  bright  and  bonny  noo,  for  the 
purple  heather  is  on  the  hills,  and  doon  below 
the  gowden  corn,  wi'  bluebell  and  poppy 
flowers  between.  Naebody  'ill  ask  ye  where 
ye've  been,  or  onything  else ;  there's  no  a  bairn 


i42  LACHLAN  CAMPBELL 

in  the  place  that's  no  wearying  tae  see  ye ;  and, 
Flora,  lassie,  if  there  will  be  sic  gledness  in  oor 
wee  glen  when  ye  come  hame,  what  think  ye 
o'  the  joy  in  the  Father's  Hoose?  Start  the 
verra  meenute  that  ye  get  this  letter;  yir 
father  bids  ye  come,  and  I'm  writing  this  in 
place  o'  yir  mother.  Marget  Howe." 

Marget  went  out  to  tend  the  flowers  while 
Lachlan  read  the  letter,  and  when  he  gave  it 
back  the  address  was  written  in  his  own  hand. 

He  went  as  far  as  the  crest  of  the  hill  with 
Marget,  and  watched  her  on  the  way  to  the 
post  office  till  she  was  only  a  speck  upon  the 
road. 

When  he  entered  his  cottage  the  shadows 
were  beginning  to  fall,  and  he  remembered  it 
would  soon  be  night. 

"  It  iss  in  the  dark  that  Flora  will  be  coming, 
and  she  must  know  that  her  father  iss  waiting 
for  her." 

He  cleaned  and  trimmed  with  anxious  hand 
a  lamp  that  was  kept  for  show,  and  had  never 
been  used.  Then  he  selected  from  his  books 
Edwards'  "  Sinners  in  the  Hands  of  an  angry 


GATHERING   FLOWERS    IN   A   PINE    WOOD 


HIS    BITTER   SHAME.  143 

God,"  and  "  Coles  on  the  Divine  Sovereignty," 
and  on  them  he  laid  the  large  family  Bible  out 
of  which  Flora's  name  had  been  blotted.  This 
was  the  stand  on  which  he  set  the  lamp  in  the 
window,  and  every  night  till  Flora  returned  its 
light  shone  down  the  steep  path  that  ascended 
to  her  home,  like  the  Divine  Love  from  the 
open  door  of  our  Father's  House. 


Ill 

LIKE  AS  A  FATHER 

It  was  only  by  physical  force  and  a  free  use 
of  personalities  that  the  Kildrummie  passen- 
gers could  be  entrained  at  the  Junction,  and 
the  Drumtochty  men  were  always  the  last  to 
capitulate. 

They  watched  the  main  line  train  that  had 
brought  them  from  Muirtown  disappear  in  the 
distance,  and  then  broke  into  groups  to  discuss 
the  cattle  sale  at  leisure,  while  Peter,  the  facto- 
tum of  the  little  Kildrummie  branch,  drove  his 
way  through  their  midst  with  offensive  pieces 
of  luggage,  and  abused  them  by  name  without 
respect  of  persons. 

"  It's  maist  aggravating  Drumsheugh,  'at  ye 
'ill  stand  there  girnin'  at  the  prices,  as  if  ye 
were  a  puir  cottar  body  that  hed  selt  her  ae 
coo,  and  us  twal  meenutes  late.  Man,  get  in- 
tae  yer  kerridge ;  he  'ill  no  be  fat  that  buys 
frae  you,  a'll  wager." 


LIKE  AS  A  FATHER  145 

"  Peter's  in  an  awfu'  feery-farry  (excite- 
ment) the  nicht,  neeburs,"  Drumsheugh  would 
respond,  after  a  long  pause ;  "  ye  wud  think  he 
wes  a  mail  gaird  tae  hear  him  speak.  Mind 
ye,  a'm  no  gain*  tae  shove  ahint  if  the  engine 
sticks,  for  I  hae  na  time.  He  needs  a  bit  nip," 
and  Drumsheugh  settles  himself  in  his  seat, 
"  or  else  there  wud  be  nae  leevin'  wi'  him." 

Peter  escaped  this  winged  shaft,  for  he  had 
detected  a  woman  in  the  remote  darkness. 

"  Keep's  a',  wumman,  what  are  ye  stravagin' 
about  there  for  out  o'  a  body's  sicht  ?  a'  near 
set  aff  withoot  ye." 

Then  Peter  recognised  her  face,  and  his 
manner  softened  of  a  sudden. 

"  Come  awa',  lassie,  come  awa' ;  a'  didna  ken 
ye  at  the  moment,  but  a'  heard  ye  hed  been 
veesitin'  in  the  sooth. 

"  The  third  is  terrible  full  wi'  thae  Drum- 
tochty  lads,  and  ye  'ill  hear  naething  but 
Drumsheugh's  stirks ;  ye  'ill  maybe  be  as  handy 
in  oor  second."  And  Flora  Campbell  stepped 
in  unseen. 

Between  the  Junction  and  Kildrummie  Peter 
was    accustomed   to   wander   along   the    foot- 


i46  LACHLAN  CAMPBELL 

board,  collecting  tickets  and  identifying  pas- 
sengers.  He  was  generally  in  fine  trim  on  the 
way  up,  and  took  ample  revenge  for  the  insults 
of  the  departure.  But  it  was  supposed  that 
Peter  had  taken  Drumsheugh's  withering  sar- 
casm to  heart,  for  he  attached  himself  to  the 
second  that  night,  and  was  invisible  to  the  ex- 
pectant third  till  the  last  moment. 

"Ye've  hed  a  lang  journey,  Miss  Cammil, 
and  ye  maun  be  nearly  dune  wi'  tire ;  juist  ye 
sit  still  till  the  fouk  get  awa',  and  the  guid  wife 
and  me  wud  be  prood  if  ye  took  a  cup  o'  tea 
wi's  afore  ye  stairted  hame.  A'll  come  for  ye 
as  sune  as  a*  get  the  van  emptied  and  ma  little 
trokes  feenished." 

Peter  hurried  up  to  his  cottage  in  such 
hot  haste  that  his  wife  came  out  in  great 
alarm. 

"  Na,  their's  naethin*  wrang ;  it's  the  oppo- 
site way  this  nicht.  Ye  mind  o'  Flora  Cammil 
that  left  her  father,  and  name  o'  the  Drum- 
tochty  fouk  wud  say  onything  aboot  her. 
Weel,  she's  in  the  train,  and  a've  asked  her  up 
tae  rest,  and  she  was  gled  tae  come,  puir  thing. 
Sae  gie  her  a  couthy  welcome,  wumman,  and 


LIKE  AS  A   FATHER  147 

the  best  in  the  hoose,  for  oors  'ill  be  the  first 
roof  she  'ill  be  under  on  her  way  name." 

Our  women  do  not  kiss  one  another  like  the 
city  ladies;  but  the  motherly  grip  of  Mary 
Bruce's  hand  sent  a  thrill  to  Flora's  heart. 

"  Noo  a'  ca'  this  rael  kind  o'  ye,  Miss  Cam- 
mil,  tae  come  in  withoot  ceremony,  and  a'd  be 
terrible  pleased  if  ye  would  dae  it  ony  time  yer 
traivellin'.  The  rail  is  by  ordinar'  fateegin', 
and  a  cup  o'  tea  'ill  set  ye  up,"  and  Mary  had 
Flora  in  the  best  chair,  and  was  loading  her 
plate  with  homely  dainties. 

Peter  would  speak  of  nothing  but  the  new 
engine  that  was  coming,  and  was  to  place  the 
Kildrummie  branch  beyond  ridicule  for  ever, 
and  on  this  great  event  he  continued  without 
intermission  till  he  parted  with  Flora  on  the 
edge  of  the  pine  woods  that  divided  Drum- 
tochty  from  Kildrummie. 

"  Gude  nicht  tae  ye,  Miss  Cammil,  and  thank 
ye  again  for  yir  veesit.  Bring  the  auld  man  wi' 
ye  next  time  ye're  passing,  though  a'm  feared 
ye've  been  deived  (deafened)  wi'  the  en- 
gine." 

Flora  took  Peter's  hand,  that  was  callous  and 


148  LACHLAN  CAMPBELL 

rough  with  the  turning  of  brakes  and  the 
coupling  of  chains. 

"  It  wass  not  your  new  engine  you  wass 
thinking  about  this  night,  Peter  Bruce,  but  a 
poor  girl  that  iss  in  trouble.  I  hef  not  the 
words,  but  I  will  be  remembering  your  house, 
oh  yes,  as  long  as  I  live." 

Twice  Peter  stood  on  his  way  home  ;  the  first 
time  he  slapped  his  leg  and  chuckled : 

"Sail,  it  was  gey  clever  o'  me;  a  hale  ker- 
ridge  o'  Drumtochty  lads,  and  no  ane  o'  them 
ever  hed  a  glint  o'  her." 

At  the  second  stoppage  he  drew  his  hand 
across  his  eyes. 

"  Puir  lassie,  a*  houp  her  father  'ill  be  kind 
tae  her,  for  she's  sair  broken,  and  looks  liker 
deith  than  life." 

No  one  can  desire  a  sweeter  walk  than 
through  a  Scottish  pine  wood  in  late  Septem- 
ber, where  you  breathe  the  healing  resinous  air, 
and  the  ground  is  crisp  and  springy  beneath 
your  feet,  and  gentle  animals  dart  away  on 
every  side,  and  here  and  there  you  come  on  an 
open  space  with  a  pool,  and  a  brake  of  gorse. 
Many  a  time  on  market  days  Flora  had  gone 


LIKE   AS   A   FATHER  149 

singing  through  these  woods,  plucking  a  posy 
of  wild  flowers  and  finding  a  mirror  in  every 
pool,  as  young  girls  will ;  but  now  she  trembled 
and  was  afraid.  The  rustling  of  the  trees  in 
the  darkness,  the  hooting  of  an  owl,  the  awful 
purity  of  the  moonlight  in  the  glades,  the  cold 
sheen  of  the  water,  were  to  her  troubled  con- 
science omens  of  judgment.  Had  it  not  been 
for  the  kindness  of  Peter  Bruce,  which  was  a 
pledge  of  human  forgiveness,  there  would  have 
been  no  heart  in  her  to  dare  that  wood,  and  it 
was  with  a  sob  of  relief  she  escaped  from  the 
shadow  and  looked  upon  the  old  glen  once 
more,  bathed  from  end  to  end  in  the  light  of 
the  harvest  moon.  Beneath  her  ran  our  little 
river,  spanned  by  its  quaint  old  bridge ;  away 
on  the  right  the  Parish  Kirk  peeped  out  from  a 
clump  of  trees;  half  way  up  the  glen  the 
clachan  lay  surrounded  by  patches  of  corn ;  and 
beyond  were  the  moors,  with  a  shepherd's 
cottage  that  held  her  heart.  Two  hours  ago 
squares  of  light  told  of  warmth  and  welcome 
within  ;  but  now,  as  Flora  passed  one  house 
after  another,  it  seemed  as  if  every  one  she 
knew  was  dead,  and  she  was  forgotten  in  her 


ISO  LACHLAN  CAMPBELL 

misery.  Her  heart  grew  cold,  and  she  longed 
to  lie  down  and  die,  when  she  caught  the 
gleam  of  a  lighted  window.  Some  one  was 
living  still  to  know  she  had  repented,  and  she 
knelt  down  among  the  flowers  with  her  ear  to 
the  glass  to  hear  the  sound  of  a  human  voice. 
Archie  Moncur  had  come  home  late  from  a 
far-away  job,  but  he  must  needs  have  worship 
with  his  sister  before  they  went  to  bed,  and 
well  did  he  choose  the  psalm  that  night. 
Flora's  tears  rained  upon  the  mignonette  as  the 
two  old  people  sang  : 

"  When  Sion's  bondage  God  turned  back, 
As  men  that  dreamed  were  we, 
Then  filled  with  laughter  was  our  mouth, 
Our  tongue  with  melody  ;  " 

while  the  fragrance  of  the  flowers  went  up  as 
incense  unto  God. 

All  the  way  along  the  glen  the  last  words  of 
the  psalm  still  rang  in  her  ears,  "  Rejoicing 
shall  return,"  but  as  she  touched  the  footpath 
to  her  home,  courage  failed  her.  Marget  had 
written  for  her  dead  mother,  but  no  one  could 
speak  with  authority  for  her  father.     She  knew 


LIKE  AS  A  FATHER  151 

the  pride  of  his  religion  and  his  iron  principles. 
If  he  refused  her  entrance,  then  it  had  been 
better  for  her  to  have  died  in  London.  A  turn 
of  the  path  brought  her  within  sight  of  the 
cottage,  and  her  heart  came  into  her  mouth,  for 
the  kitchen  window  was  a  blaze  of  light.  One 
moment  she  feared  Lachlan  might  be  ill,  but  in 
the  next  she  understood,  and  in  the  greatness 
of  her  joy  she  ran  the  rest  of  the  way.  When 
she  reached  the  door,  her  strength  had  de- 
parted, and  she  was  not  able  to  knock.  But 
there  was  no  need,  for  the  dogs,  who  never 
forget  nor  cast  off,  were  bidding  her  welcome 
with  short  joyous  yelps  of  delight,  and  she 
could  hear  her  father  feeling  for  the  latch> 
which  for  once  could  not  be  found,  and  saying 
nothing  but  "  Flora,  Flora." 

She  had  made  up  some  kind  of  speech,  but 
the  only  word  she  ever  said  was  "  Father,"  for 
Lachlan,  who  had  never  even  kissed  her  all  the 
days  of  her  youth,  clasped  her  in  his  arms  and 
sobbed  out  blessings  over  her  head,  while  the 
dogs  licked  her  hands  with  their  soft,  kindly 
tongues. 

"  It  iss  a  peety  you  hef  not  the  Gaelic," 


152  LACHLAN  CAMPBELL 

Flora  said  to  Marget  afterwards ;  "  it  iss  the 
best  of  all  languages  for  loving.  There  are 
fifty  words  for  darling,  and  my  father  would 
be  calling  me  every  one  that  night  I  came 
home." 

Lachlan  was  so  carried  with  joy,  and  fire- 
light is  so  hopeful,  that  he  had  not  seen  the 
signs  of  sore  sickness  on  Flora's  face,  but  the 
morning  light  undeceived  him,  and  he  was  sad- 
ly dashed. 

"  You  will  be  fery  tired  after  your  long 
journey,  Flora,  and  it  iss  good  for  you  to  rest. 
There  iss  a  man  in  the  clachan  I  am  wanting  to 
see,  and  he  will  maybe  be  comin'  back  with 
me." 

When  Lachlan  reached  his  place  of  prayer, 
he  lay  on  the  ground  and  cried,  "  Have  mercy 
on  me,  O  Lord,  and  spare  her  for  Thy  ser- 
vant's sake,  and  let  me  not  lose  her  after  Thou 
hast  brought  her  back  and  hast  opened  my 
heart.  .  .  .  Take  her  not  till  she  hass  seen 
that  I  love  her.  .  .  .  Give  me  time  to  do  her 
kindness  for  the  past  wherein  I  oppressed 
her.  ...  O,  turn  away  Thy  judgment  on  my 
hardness,  and  let  not  the  child  suffer  for  her 


LIKE  AS  A  FATHER  153 

father's  sins."  Then  he  arose  and  hastened  for 
the  doctor. 

It  was  afternoon  before  Dr.  MacLure  could 
come,  but  the  very  sight  of  his  face,  which  was 
as  the  sun  in  its  strength,  let  light  into  the 
room  where  Lachlan  sat  at  the  bedside  holding 
Flora's  hand,  and  making  woful  pretence  that 
she  was  not  ill. 

"  Weel,  Flora,  ye've  got  back  frae  yir  veesits, 
and  a'  tell  ye  we've  a'  missed  ye  maist  terrible. 
A'  doot  thae  sooth  country  fouk  haena  been 
feeding  ye  ower  weel,  or  maybe  it  was  the 
toon  air.  It  never  agrees  wi'  me.  A'm  half 
chokit  a'  the  time  a'm  in  Glesgie,  and  as  for 
London,  there's  ower  mony  fouk  tae  the 
square  yaird  for  health." 

All  the  time  he  was  busy  at  his  work,  and 
no  man  could  do  it  better  or  quicker,  although 
the  outside  of  him  was  not  encouraging. 

"  Lachlan,  what  are  ye  traivellin'  in  and  oot 
there  for  with  a  face  that  wud  sour  milk? 
What  ails  ye,  man?  ye're  surely  no  imaginm* 
Flora's  gaein'  to  leave  ye  ? 

"  Lord's  sake,  it's  maist  provokin'  that  if 
a  body  hes  a  bit   whup  o'   illness   in   Drum- 


154  LACHLAN  CAMPBELL 

tochty,    their     freends    tak    tae    propheseein1 
deith." 

Lachlan  had  crept  over  to  Flora's  side,  and 
both  were  waiting. 

"  Na,  na ;  ye  ken  a'  never  tell  lees  like  the 
graund  ceety  doctors,  and  a'll  warrant  Flora  'ill 
be  in  kirk  afore  Martinmas,  an'  kiltin'  up  the 
braes  as  hardy  as  a  hielan'  sheltie  by  the  new 
year." 

Flora  puts  an  arm  round  her  father's  neck, 
and  draws  down  his  face  to  hers,  but  the 
doctor  is  looking  another  way. 

"  Dinna  fash  wi'  medicine ;  gie  her  plenty  o' 
fresh  milk  and  plenty  o'  air.  There's  nae 
leevin'  for  a  doctor  wi'  that  Drumtochty  air ; 
it  hasna  a  marra  in  Scotland.  It  starts  frae 
the  Moray  Firth  and  sweeps  doon  Badenoch, 
and  comes  ower  the  moor  o'  Rannoch  and 
across  the  Grampians.  There's  the  salt  o'  the 
sea,  and  the  caller  air  o'  the  hills,  and  the 
smell  o'  the  heather,  and  the  bloom  o'mony  a 
flower  in't.  If  there's  nae  disease  in  the  or- 
gans o'  the  body,  a  puff  o'  Drumtochty  air 
wud  bring  back  a  man  frae  the  gates  o'  deith." 

"You  hef  made  two  hearts  glad  this  day, 


LIKE  AS  A  FATHER  155 

Doctor  McLure,"  said  Lachlan,  outside  the 
door,  "  and  I  am  calling  you  Barnabas." 

"  Ye've  ca'd  me  waur  names  than  that  in  yir 
time,"  and  the  doctor  mounted  his  horse. 
"  It's  dune  me  a  warld  o'  guid  tae  see  Flora  in 
her  hame  again,  and  I'll  gie  Marget  Howe  a 
cry  in  passin'  and  send  her  up  tae  hae  a  crack, 
for  there's  no  a  wiser  wumman  in  the  glen." 

When  Marget  came,  Flora  told  her  the  his- 
tory of  her  letter. 

"  It  wass  a  beautiful  night  in  London,  but  I 
will  be  thinking  that  there  iss  no  living  person 
caring  whether  I  die  or  live,  and  I  wass  consid- 
ering how  I  could  die,  for  there  iss  nothing  so 
hopeless  as  to  hef  no  friend  in  a  great  city.  It 
iss  often  that  I  hef  been  alone  on  the  moor, 
and  no  man  within  miles,  but  I  wass  never 
lonely,  oh  no,  I  had  plenty  of  good  company. 
I  would  sit  down  beside  a  burn,  and  the  trout 
will  swim  out  from  below  a  stone,  and  the 
cattle  will  come  to  drink,  and  the  muirfowl 
will  be  crying  to  each  other,  and  the  sheep  will 
be  bleating,  oh  yes,  and  there  are  the  bees  all 
round,  and  a  string  of  wild  ducks  above  your 
head.     It  iss  a  busy  place  a  moor,  and  a  safe 


156  LACHLAN  CAMPBELL 

place  too,  for  there  iss  not  one  of  the  animals 
will  hurt  you.  No,  the  big  highlanders  will 
only  look  at  you  and  go  away  to  their  pasture. 
But  it  iss  weary  to  be  in  London  and  no  one 
to  speak  a  kind  word  to  you,  and  I  will  be 
looking  at  the  crowd  that  iss  always  passing, 
and  I  will  not  see  one  kent  face,  and  when  I 
looked  in  at  the  lighted  windows  the  people 
were  all  sitting  round  the  table,  but  there  wass 
no  place  for  me.  Millions  and  millions  of  peo- 
ple, and  not  one  to  say  *  Flora,'  and  not  one 
sore  heart  if  I  died  that  night.  Then  a  strange 
thing  happened,  as  you  will  be  considering,  but 
it  iss  good  to  be  a  Highlander,  for  we  see 
visions.  You  maybe  know  that  a  wounded 
deer  will  try  to  hide  herself,  and  I  crept  into 
the  shadow  of  a  church,  and  wept.  Then  the 
people  and  the  noise  and  the  houses  passed 
away  like  the  mist  on  the  hill,  and  I  wass  walk- 
ing to  the  kirk  with  my  father,  oh  yes,  and  I 
saw  you  all  in  your  places,  and  I  heard  the 
Psalms,  and  I  could  see  through  the  window 
the  green  fields  and  the  trees  on  the  edge  of 
the  moor.  And  I  saw  my  home,  with  the 
dogs  before  the  door,  and  the  flowers  that  I 


ABOVE   NINETY 


LIKE  AS  A  FATHER  157 

planted,  and  the  lamb  coming  for  her  mik,  and 
I  heard  myself  singing,  and  I  awoke.  But 
there  wass  singing,  oh  yes,  and  beautiful  too, 
for  the  dark  church  wass  open,  and  the  light 
wass  falling  over  my  head  from  the  face  of  the 
Virgin  Mary.  When  I  arose  she  wass  looking 
down  at  me  in  the  darkness,  and  then  I  knew 
that  there  wass  service  in  the  church,  and  this 
wass  the  hymn — 

M  *  There  is  a  fountain  filled  with  blood.' 

So  I  went  in  and  sat  down  at  the  door.  The 
sermon  wass  on  the  Prodigal  Son,  but  there  iss 
only  one  word  I  remember.  '  You  are  not  for- 
gotten or  cast  off,'  the  preacher  said  ;  *  you  are 
missed,*  and  then  he  will  come  back  to  it 
again,  and  it  wass  always  *  missed,  missed, 
missed/  Sometimes  he  will  say,  *  If  you  had  a 
plant,  and  you  had  taken  great  care  of  it,  and 
it  was  stolen,  would  you  not  miss  it  ?'  And  I 
will  be  thinking  of  my  geraniums,  and  saying 
1  yes'  in  my  heart.  And  then  he  will  go  on, 
*  If  a  shepherd  wass  counting  his  sheep,  and 
there  wass  one  short,  does  he  not  go  out  to  the 
hill  and  seek  for  it  ?'  and  I  will  see  my  father 


158  LACHLAN  CAMPBELL 

coming  back  with  that  lamb  that  lost  its 
mother.  My  heart  wass  melting  within  me, 
but  he  will  still  be  pleading,  '  If  a  father  had  a 
child,  and  she  left  her  home  and  lost  herself  in 
the  wicked  city,  she  will  still  be  remembered  in 
the  old  house,  and  her  chair  will  be  there,'  and 
I  will  be  seeing  my  father  all  alone  with  the 
Bible  before  him,  and  the  dogs  will  lay  their 
heads  on  his  knee,  but  there  iss  no  Flora.  So 
I  slipped  out  into  the  darkness  and  cried 
1  Father,'  but  I  could  not  go  back,  and  I  knew 
not  what  to  do.  But  this  wass  ever  in  my  ear, 
*  missed/  and  I  wass  wondering  if  God  will  be 
thinking  of  me.  '  Perhaps  there  may  be  a 
sign,'  I  said,  and  I  went  to  my  room,  and  I 
saw  the  letter.  It  wass  not  long  before  I  will 
be  in  the  train,  and  all  the  night  I  held  your 
letter  in  my  hand,  and  when  I  wass  afraid  I 
will  read  'Your  father  loves  you  more  than 
efer,'  and  I  will  say,  *  This  is  my  warrant.'  Oh 
yes,  and  God  wass  very  good  to  me,  and  I  did 
not  want  for  friends  all  the  way  home. 

"  The  English  guard  noticed  me  cry,  and  he 
will  take  care  of  me  all  the  night,  and  see  me 
off  at  Muirtown,  and  this  iss  what  he  will  say 


LIKE  AS   A   FATHER  159 

as  the  train  wass  leaving,  in  his  cheery  English 
way,  '  Keep  up  your  heart,  lass,  there's  a  good 
time  coming,'  and  Peter  Bruce  will  be  waiting 
for  me  at  the  Junction,  and  a  gentle  man  iss 
Peter  Bruce,  and  Maister  Moncur  will  be  sing- 
ing a  psalm  to  keep  up  my  heart,  and  I  will 
see  the  light,  and  then  I  will  know  that  the 
Lord  hass  had  mercy  upon  me.  That  iss  all  I 
have  to  tell  you,  Marget,  for  the  rest  I  will  be 
saying  to  God." 

"  But  there  iss  something  I  must  be  telling,' 
said  Lachlan,  coming  in,  "  and  it  iss  not  easy." 

He  brought  over  the  Bible  and  opened  it  at 
the  family  register  where  his  daughter's  name 
had  been  erased  ;  then  he  laid  it  down  before 
Flora,  and  bowed  his  head  on  the  bed. 

"  Will  you  ever  be  able  to  forgive  your  father  ?" 

"  Give  me  the  pen,  Marget ;"  and  Flora 
wrote  for  a  minute,  but  Lachlan  never  moved. 

When  he  lifted  his  head,  this  was  what  he 
read  in  a  vacant  space : — 

Flora  Campbell. 

Missed  April  1873. 

Found  September  1873. 

"  Her  father  fell  on  her  neck  and  kissed  her." 


IV 

AS  A  LITTLE   CHILD 

Drumtochty  made  up  its  mind  slowly  upon 
any  new-comer,  and  for  some  time  looked  into 
the  far  distance  when  his  name  was  mentioned. 
He  himself  was  struck  with  the  studied  indiffer- 
ence of  the  parish,  and  lived  under  the  delusion 
that  he  had  escaped  notice.  Perhaps  he  might 
have  felt  uncomfortable  if  he  had  suspected 
that  he  was  under  a  microscope,  and  the  keen- 
est eyes  in  the  country  were  watching  every 
movement  at  kirk  and  market.  His  knowledge 
of  theology,  his  preference  in  artificial  manures, 
his  wife's  Sabbath  dress,  his  skill  in  cattle,  and 
his  manner  in  the  Kildrummie  train,  went  as 
evidence  in  the  case,  and  were  duly  weighed. 
Some  morning  the  floating  opinion  suddenly 
crystallized  in  the  kirkyard,  and  there  is  only 


AS  A   LITTLE   CHILD  161 

one  historical  instance  in  which  judgment  was 
reversed.  It  was  a  strong  proof  of  Lachlan 
Campbell's  individuality  that  he  impressed  him- 
self twice  on  the  parish,  and  each  time  with  a 
marked  adjective. 

Lachlan  had  been  superintending  the  theol- 
ogy of  the  glen  and  correcting  our  ignorance 
from  an  unapproachable  height  for  two  years 
before  the  word  went  forth,  but  the  glen  had 
been  thinking. 

"  Lachlan  is  a  carefu'  shepherd  and  fine  wi* 
the  ewes  at  the  lambing  time,  there's  nae  doot 
o'  that,  but  a'  canna  thole  (bear)  himsel'.  Ye 
wud  think  there  was  nae  releegion  in  the  parish 
till  he  came  frae  Auchindarroch.  What  say  ye, 
Domsie?  " 

"Campbell's  a  censorious  body,  Drums- 
heugh,"  and  Domsie  shut  his  snuff-box  lid 
with  a  snap. 

Drumsheugh  nodded  to  the  fathers  of  our 
commonwealth,  and  they  went  into  kirk  with 
silent  satisfaction.  Lachlan  had  been  classified, 
and  Peter  Bruce,  who  prided  himself  on  keep- 
ing in  touch  with  Drumtochty,  passed  the  word 

round  the  Kildrummie  train  next  market  night. 
L 


i62  LACHLAN   CAMPBELL 

"Ye  haena  that  censorious  body,  Lachlan 
Campbell,  wi'  ye  the  nicht,"  thrusting  his  head 
in  on  the  thirds. 

"  There's  naething  Peter  disna  ken,"  Hillocks 
remarked  with  admiration  afterwards  ;  "  he's  as 
gude  as  the  Advertiser" 

When  Flora  had  come  home,  and  Drum- 
tochty  resumed  freedom  of  criticism,  I  noticed 
for  the  first  time  a  certain  vacillation  in  its 
treatment  of  Lachlan. 

"  He's  pluckit  up  his  speerit  maist  extraor- 
dinar,"  Hillocks  explained,  "  and  he  whuppit  by 
me  like  a  three  year  auld  laist  Sabbath. 

" '  I'm  glad  tae  hear  the  Miss  is  comin'  roond 
fine,'  says  I. 

"  '  It's  the  fouk  o'  Drumtochty  hes  made  her 
weel.  God  bless  you,  for  you  hev  done  good 
for  evil,'  and  wi'  that  he  was  aff  afore  I  cud  fin' 
a  word. 

"  He's  changed,  the  body,  some  wy  or  ither, 
and  there's  a  kind  o'  warmth  aboot  him  ye 
canna  get  ower." 

Next  day  I  turned  into  Mrs.  Macfadyen's 
cottage  for  a  cup  of  tea  and  the  smack  of  that 
wise  woman's  conversation,  but  was  not  able  to 


AS  A   LITTLE   CHILD  163 

pass  the  inner  door  for  the  sight  which  met  my 
eyes. 

Lachlan  was  sitting  on  a  chair  in  the  middle 
of  the  kitchen  with  Elsie,  Mrs.  Macfadyen's  pet 
child,  on  his  knee,  and  their  heads  so  close 
together  that  his  white  hair  was  mingling  with 
her  burnished  gold.  An  odour  of  peppermint 
floated  out  at  the  door,  and  Elsie  was  explain- 
ing to  Lachlan,  for  his  guidance  at  the  shop, 
that  the  round  drops  were  a  better  bargain 
than  the  black  and  white  rock. 

When  Lachlan  had  departed,  with  gracious 
words  on  his  lips  and  a  very  sticky  imprint  on 
his  right  cheek,  I  settled  down  in  the  big  chair, 
beyond  the  power  of  speech,  and  Mrs.  Mac- 
fadyen  opened  the  mystery. 

"  Ye  may  weel  look,  for  twa  month  syne  I 
wudna  hae  believed  this  day,  though  a'  hed 
seen  him  wi*  ma  ain  een. 

"  It  was  juist  this  time  laist  year  that  he  cam 
here  on  his  elder's  veesitation,  and  he  catches 
the  bairn  in  this  verra  kitchen. 

"  ■  Elspeth,'  says  he — it  was  Elsie  the  day,  ye 
mind — 'div  ye  ken  that  ye're  an  oreeginal 
sinner  ? ' 


164  LACHLAN    CAMPBELL 

"  It  was  nichtfa'  afore  she  got  over  the 
fricht,  and  when  she  saw  him  on  the  road  next 
Sabbath,  she  cooried  in  ahint  ma  goon,  and 
cried  till  I  thocht  her  hert  wud  break. 

"  '  It's  meeserable  wark  for  Christ's  Elder,' 
says  Jeems,  '  tae  put  the  fear  o'  death  on  a 
bairn,  and  a'm  thinkin'  he  wudna  get  muckle 
thanks  frae  his  Maister  if  He  wes  here,'  and 
Jeems  wasna  far  wrong,  though,  of  course,  a' 
told  him  tae  keep  a  quiet  sough,  and  no  conter 
the  elder. 

"  Weel,  I  sees  Lachlan  comin'  up  the  road 
the  day,  and  a'  ran  oot  to  catch  Elsie  and  hide 
her  in  the  byre.  But  a'  micht  hae  saved  mysel' 
the  trouble :  afore  I  got  tae  the  gairden  gate 
they  were  comin'  up  as  chief  (friendly)  as  ye 
like,  and  Lachlan  wes  callin'  Elsie  his  bonnie 
dawtie. 

"  If  he  hadna  a  pock  o'  peppermints — but  it 
wesna  that  wiled  Elsie's  hert.  Na,  na,  dogs 
and  bairns  can  read  fouks'  faces,  and  mak  nae 
mistakes.  As  sune  as  a*  saw  Lachlan's  een  a* 
kent  he  wes  a  new  man. 

"  Hoo  has  it  come  about  ?  That's  easy  tae 
guess.     Sax  months  syne  Lachlan  didna  ken 


AS   A   LITTLE   CHILD  165 

what  father  meant,  and  the  heart  wes  wiz- 
ened in  the  breist  o'  him  wi'  pride  an'  diveen- 
ity. 

"  He  kens  noo,  and  a'm  jalousing  that  nae 
man  can  be  a  richt  father  tae  his  ain  without 
being  sib  (akin)  tae  every  bairn  he  sees.  It  wes 
Flora  he  was  dawting  (petting)  ye  see  the  day, 
and  he's  learned  his  trade  weel,  though  it  cost 
him  a  sair  lesson." 

Wonderful  stories  circulated  through  the  glen, 
and  were  told  in  the  kirkyard  of  a  Sabbath 
morning,  concerning  the  transformation  of 
Lachlan  Campbell. 

"  Ane  o'  ma  wee  lassies,"  expatiated  Domsie, 
"  fell  comin'  doon  the  near  road  frae  Whinnie 
Knowe,  and  cuttit  her  cheek  on  the  stones,  and 
if  Lachlan  didna  wash  her  face  and  comfort 
her  ;  an'  mair,  he  carried  her  a'  the  road  tae  the 
schule,  and  says  he  in  his  Hieland  way,  *  Here 
iss  a  brave  little  woman  that  hass  hurt  herself, 
but  she  will  not  be  crying,'  and  he  gave  her  a 
kiss  and  a  penny  tae  buy  some  sweeties  at  the 
shop.  It  minded  me  o'  the  Gude  Samaritan, 
fouks,"  and  everybody  understood  that  Lachlan 
had  captured  Domsie  for  life. 


166  LACHLAN   CAMPBELL 

"  It  beats  a'  things/'  said  Whinnie  ;  "  a*  canna 
mak'  oot  what's  come  ower  the  cratur.  There's 
a  puckle  o'  the  upland  bairns  pass  oor  wy  frae 
schule,  and  whiles  Lachlan  'ill  meet  them  when 
he's  aifter  his  sheep,  and  as  sure  as  a'm  stannin* 
here,  he  'ill  lay  aff  stories  aboot  battles  and 
fairies,  till  the  laddies  'ill  hardly  gae  hame.  I 
wes  tellin'  Marget  this  verra  mornin',  and  she 
says,  l  Lachlan's  become  as  a  little  child.'  I 
dinna  haud  wi'  her  there,  but  a  quieter,  mair 
cautious  body  ye  never  saw." 

Drumtochty  was  doing  its  best  to  focus  Lach- 
lan afresh,  and  felt  the  responsibility  lay  on 
Domsie,  who  accepted  it  cheerfully. 

"  Marget's  aye  richt,  neebours,  and  she's  put 
the  word  on  it  noo.  His  tribble  hes  melted 
Lachlan's  heart,  an' — it's  in  the  Evangel,  ye 
ken — he's  become  as  a  little  child." 

This  language  was  too  figurative  and  impos- 
ing for  the  parish,  but  it  ran  henceforward  in 
our  modest  speech,  "  He's  a  cautious  body." 
Cautious,  with  us,  meant  unassuming,  kindly 
obliging,  as  well  as  much  more ;  and  I  still  hear 
Drumsheugh  pronouncing  this  final  judgment 
of  the  glen  on  Lachlan  as  we  parted  at  his  grave 


AS  A   LITTLE   CHILD  167 

ten  years  later,  and  adding,  "  He  'ill  be  sair 
missed  by  the  bairns." 

While  the  glen  was  readjusting  itself  to  Lach- 
lan,  I  came  down  from  a  long  tramp  on  the 
moor,  and  intended  to  inquire  for  Flora.  But 
I  was  arrested  on  the  step  by  the  sound  of 
Lachlan's  voice  in  family  worship. 

"  This  my  son  was  dead,  and  is  alive  again  ; 
he  was  lost,  and  is  found.  And  they  began  to 
be  merry." 

Lachlan's  voice  trembled  as  he  read,  but  he 
went  on  with  much  firmness  : 

"  Now  his  elder  son  was  in  the  field." 

"  You  will  not  be  reading  more  of  that  chap- 
ter, father,"  interrupted  Flora,  with  a  new  note 
of  authority. 

"  And  why  not  ?"  said  Lachlan,  quite  humbly. 

"Because  you  will  be  calling  yourself  the 
elder  son  and  many  more  bad  names,  and  I  will 
be  angry  with  you." 

"  But  they  are  true  names,  and  it  iss  good  for 
me  to  know  myself." 

"  You  hef  just  one  true  name,  and  that  iss 
father.  .  .  .  And  now  you  will  be  singing  a 
psalm." 


168  LACHLAN    CAMPBELL 

"  There  iss  a  book  of  himes  (hymns)  here, 
and  maybe  you  will  be  liking  one  of  them." 

And  Lachlan  produced  the  little  book  Flora 
got  in  that  London  church  when  the  preacher 
told  her  she  was  missed. 

"  We  will  not  sing  hymns,  father,  for  I  am 
remembering  that  you  hef  a  conscience  against 
hymns,  and  I  did  not  know  that  you  had  that 
book." 

"  My  conscience  wass  sometimes  better  than 
the  Bible,  Flora,  and  if  God  will  be  sending  a 
hime  to  bind  up  your  heart  when  it  wass  broken, 
it  iss  your  father  that  will  be  wanting  to  sing 
that  hime. 

"  It  iss  here,"  continued  Lachlan  in  triumph, 
"  for  I  hef  often  been  reading  that  hime,  and  I 
am  not  seeing  much  wrong  in  it." 

"  But  each  hymn  hass  got  its  own  tune,  father, 
and  you  will  not  know  the  way  that  it  goes,  and 
the  doctor  will  not  be  wishing  me  to  sing." 

"  You  are  a  good  girl,  Flora,  but  you  are  not 
so  clever  as  your  father,  oh  no,  for  I  hef  been 
trying  that  hime  on  the  hill,  and  it  will  sing 
beautiful  to  a  Psalm  tune.  You  will  lie  still 
and  hear." 


AS  A   LITTLE   CHILD  169 

Then  Lachlan  lifted  up  his  voice  in  "  French," 

"  There  is  a  fountain  filled  with  blood, 
Drawn  from  Immanuel's  veins, 
And  sinners  plunged  beneath  that  flood 
Lose  all  their  guilty  stains." 

The  singing  was  fairly  good,  with  a  whisper 
from  Flora,  till  they  came  to  that  verse : 

"  Then  in  a  nobler,  sweeter  song 
I'll  sing  Thy  power  to  save, 
When  this  poor  lisping,  stammering  tongue 
Lies  silent  in  the  grave," 

when  Lachlan  seemed  to  lose  the  tune,  and  be 
falling  into  a  coronach. 

"  We  must  not  be  singing  that  to-day,  father, 
for  God  iss  fery  good  to  us,  and  I  will  be 
stronger  every  week,  and  maybe  you  will  be 
saying  that  we  are  thankful  in  your  prayer." 

Then  I  realised  my  baseness,  and  went  off  on 
tiptoe  (had  the  dogs  been  at  home  it  had  not 
been  so  easy  to  escape)  ;  but  first  I  heard,  "  Our 
Father.'*  It  was  a  new  word  for  Lachlan ;  he 
used  to  say  Jehovah. 

The  doctor  paid  his  last  visit  one  frosty 
winter  day,  and  was  merciless  on  Lachlan. 


170  LACHLAN  CAMPBELL 

"  What  for  are  ye  cockering  up  this  lassie, 
and  no  getting  her  doon  tae  the  kirk  ?  it's  clean 
disgracefu'  in  an  Elder,  and  if  I  were  yir  minis- 
ter a*  wud  hae  ye  sessioned.  Sail,  ye're  hard 
enough  on  ither  fouk  that  are  no  kirk  greedy." 

"You  will  not  be  speaking  that  way  next 
Sabbath,  for  it  iss  in  her  pew  Flora  will  be 
sitting  with  her  father,"  said  Lachlan,  in  great 
spirits. 

Flora  caught  him  studying  her  closely  for 
some  days,  as  if  he  were  taking  her  measure, 
and  he  announced  that  he  had  business  in 
Muirtown  on  Friday. 

When  he  came  up  in  the  market  train  he  was 
Carrying  a  large  paper  parcel,  and  attempted  a 
joke  with  Peter  at  a  window  of  the  third. 
From  a  critical  point  of  view  it  was  beneath 
notice,  but  as  Lachlan's  first  effort  it  was  much 
tasted. 

"Ye  'ill  believe  me  noo,  Peter,  since  ye've 
heard  him.  Did  ye  ever  see  sic  a  change  ?  it's 
maist  astonishin'." 

"  Man,  Hillocks,  div  ye  no  see  he's  gotten 
back  his  dochter,  and  it's  made  him  anither 
man?" 


AS   A    LITTLE   CHILD  171 

Lachlan  showed  Flora  a  new  pair  of  shears 
he  had  bought  in  Muirtown,  and  a  bottle  of 
sheep  embrocation,  but  she  did  not  know  he 
had  hidden  his  parcel  in  the  byre,  and  that  he 
opened  it  four  separate  times  on  Saturday. 

From  daybreak  on  Sabbath  Lachlan  went  in 
and  out  till  he  returned  with  Marget  Howe. 

"  Mrs.  Howe  iss  very  kind,  and  she  will  be 
coming  to  help  you  with  your  dresses,  Flora, 
for  we  will  be  wanting  you  to  look  well  this 
day,  and  here  iss  some  small  thing  to  keep  you 
warm,"  and  Lachlan  produced  with  unspeak- 
able pride  a  jacket  lined  with  flannel  and 
trimmed  with  fur. 

So  her  father  and  Marget  dressed  Flora  for 
the  kirk,  and  they  went  together  down  the  path 
on  which  the  light  had  shone  that  night  of  her 
return. 

There  were  only  two  dog-carts  in  the  Free 
Kirk  Session,  and  Burnbrae  was  waiting  with 
his  for  Flora  at  the  foot  of  the  hill. 

"  I  bid  ye  welcome,  Flora,  in  the  name  o*  oor 
kirk.  It's  a  gled  day  for  your  father,  and  for  us 
a*  tae  see  you  back  again  and  strong.  And  noo 
ye  'ill  just  get  up  aside  me  in  the  front,  and 


172  LACHLAN    CAMPBELL 

Mistress  Hoo  'ill  hap  ye  round,  for  we  maunna 
let  ye  come  tae  ony  ill  the  first  day  yir  oot,  or 
we  'ill  never  hear  the  end  o't."  And  so  the 
honest  man  went  on,  for  he  was  as  near  the 
breaking  as  Drumtochty  nature  allowed. 

"  A'  body's  pleased,"  said  Marget  to  Lachlan 
as  they  sat  on  the  back  seat  and  caught  the 
faces  of  the  people.  "  This  is  the  first  time  I 
have  seen  the  fifteenth  of  Luke  in  Drumtochty. 
It's  a  bonnie  sicht,  and  a'm  thinkin'  it's  still 
bonnier  in  the  presence  o'  the  angels." 

"  Flora  Cammil's  in  the  kirk  the  day,"  and 
the  precentor  looked  at  Carmichael  with  ex- 
pectation. "  The  fouk  are  terrible  taen  up  wf 
Lachlan  and  her." 

"What  do  you  think  of  the  hundred  and 
third  Psalm,  Robert?  It  would  go  well  this 
morning." 

"  The  verra  word  that  was  on  my  lips,  and 
Lachlan  'ill  be  lookin'  for  Coleshill." 

Lachlan  had  put  Flora  in  his  old  place  next 
the  wall  (he  would  not  need  it  again,  having 
retired  from  the  office  of  inquisitor),  and  sat 
close  beside  her,  with  great  contentment  on  his 
face.     The  manners  of  Drumtochty  were  per. 


AS   A   LITTLE   CHILD  173 

feet,  and  no  one  turned  his  head  by  one  inch  • 
but  Marget  Howe,  sitting  behind  in  Burnbrae's 
pew,  saw  Flora's  hand  go  out  to  Lachlan's  as 
the  people  sang : 

u  All  thine  iniquities  who  doth 
Most  graciously  forgive, 
Who  thy  diseases  all  and  pains 
Doth  heal  and  thee  relieve." 

The  Session  met  that  week,  and  a  young 
girl  broke  down  utterly  in  her  examination  for 
the  Sacrament,  so  that  not  even  Burnbrae 
could  get  a  correct  answer. 

She  rose  in  great  confusion  and  sorrow. 

"  A*  see  it  wudna  be  fit  for  the  like  o'  me  tae 
gae  forrit,  but  a*  had  set  ma  hert  on't ;  it  wes 
the  last  thing  He  askit  o'  His  freends,"  and  she 
left  before  any  one  could  bid  her  stay. 

"  Moderator,"  said  Lachlan,  "  it  iss  a  great 
joy  for  me  to  move  that  Mary  Macfarlane  get 
her  token,  and  I  will  be  wishing  that  we  all 
had  her  warrant,  oh  yes,  for  there  iss  no  war- 
rant like  love.  And  there  iss  something  that  I 
must  be  asking  of  the  elders,  and  it  iss  to  for- 
give me  for  my  pride  in  this  Session.     I  wass 


174  LACHLAN    CAMPBELL 

thinking  that  I  knew  more  than  any  man  in 
Drumtochty,  and  wass  judging  God's  people. 
But  He  hass  had  mercy  upon  Simon  the 
Pharisee,  and  you  hef  all  been  been  very  good 
to  me  and  Flora.  .  .  .  The  Scripture  hass  been 
fulfilled,  '  So  the  last  shall  be  first,  and  the  first 
last/  " 

Then  the  minister  asked  Burnbrae  to  pray, 
and  the  Spirit  descended  on  that  good  man,  of 
simple  heart : 

"  Almichty  Father,  we  are  a'  Thy  puir  and 
sinfu'  bairns,  wha  wearied  o'  hame  and  gaed 
awa'  intae  the  far  country.  Forgive  us,  for  we 
didna  ken  what  we  were  leavin'  or  the  sair  hert 
we  gied  oor  Father.  It  wes  weary  wark  tae 
live  wi'  oor  sins,  but  we  wud  never  hev  come 
back  had  it  no  been  for  oor  Elder  Brither.  He 
cam*  a  long  road  tae  find  us,  and  a  sore  travail 
He  had  afore  He  set  us  free.  He's  been  a 
gude  Brither  tae  us,  and  we've  been  a  heavy 
chairge  tae  Him.  May  He  keep  a  firm  haud  o* 
us,  and  guide  us  in  the  richt  road,  and  bring  us 
back  gin  we  wander,  and  tell  us  a*  we  need  tae 
know   till   the   gloamin'   come.     Gither   us  in 


AS  A   LITTLE   CHILD  171 

then,  we  pray  Thee,  and  a*  we  luve,  no  a  bairn 
missin',  and  may  we  sit  doon  for  ever  in  oor 
ain  Father's  House.    Amen." 

As  Burnbrae  said  Amen,  Carmichael  opened 
his  eyes,  and  had  a  vision  which  will  remain 
with  him  until  the  day  break  and  the  shadows 
flee  away. 

The  six  elders — three  small  farmers,  a  tailor, 
a  stonemason,  and  a  shepherd — were  standing 
beneath  the  lamp,  and  the  light  fell  like  a  halo 
on  their  bent  heads.  That  poor  little  vestry 
had  disappeared,  and  this  present  world  was 
forgotten.  The  sons  of  God  had  come  into 
their  heritage,  "  for  the  things  which  are  seen 
are  temporal,  but  the  things  which  are  not  seen 
are  eternal." 


THE    CUNNING    SPEECH    OF 
DRUMTOCHTY 


THE  CUNNING  SPEECH   OF 
DRUMTOCHTY 

Speech  in  Drumtochty  distilled  slowly,  drop 
by  drop,  and  the  faces  of  our  men  were  carved 
in  stone.  Visitors,  without  discernment,  used 
to  pity  our  dulness  and  lay  themselves  out  for 
missionary  work.  Before  their  month  was 
over  they  spoke  bitterly  of  us,  as  if  we  had  de- 
ceived them,  and  departed  with  a  grudge  in 
their  hearts.  When  Hillocks  scandalised  the 
Glen  by  letting  his  house  and  living  in  the 
bothie — through  sheer  greed  of  money — it  was 
taken  by  a  fussy  little  man  from  the  South, 
whose  control  over  the  letter  "  h"  was  uncer- 
tain, but  whose  self-confidence  bordered  on  the 
miraculous.  As  a  deacon  of  the  Social  Re- 
ligionists,— a  new  denomination,  which  had 
made  an  'it  with  Sunday  Entertainments, — and 
Chairman  of  the  Amalgamated  Sons  of  Rest, — 


i8o  CUNNING  SPEECH  OF  DRUMTOCHTY 

a  society  of  persons  with  conscientious  objec- 
tions to  work  between  meals — he  was  horrified 
at  the  primeval  simplicity  of  the  Glen,  where 
no  meeting  of  protest  had  been  held  in  the 
memory  of  living  man,  and  the  ministers 
preached  from  the  Bible.  It  was  understood 
that  he  was  to  do  his  best  for  us,  and  there 
was  curiosity  in  the  kirkyard. 

"  Whatna  like  man  is  that  English  veesitor 
yeVe  got,  Hillocks?  a'  hear  he's  fleein'  ower 
the  Glen,  yammerin'  and  haverin'  like  a 
starlin'." 

"  He's  a  gabby  (talkative)  body,  Drums- 
heugh,  there's  nae  doot  o'  that,  but  terrible 
ignorant. 

"  Says  he  tae  me  nae  later  than  yesterday, 
•  That's  a  fine  field  o'  barley  ye've  there,  Mais- 
ter  Harris,'  an*  as  sure  as  deith  a'  didna  ken 
whaur  tae  luik,  for  it  was  a  puckle  aits." 

"  Keep's  a',''  said  Whinnie ;  "  he's  been  aw- 
fu'  negleckit  when  he  wes  a  bairn,  or  maybe 
there's  a  want  in  the  puir  cratur." 

Next  Sabbath  Mr.  Urijah  Hopps  appeared 
in  person  among  the  fathers — who  looked  at 
each    other    over  his   head — and   enlightened 


CUNNING  SPEECH  OF  DRUMTOCHTY  181 

them  on  supply  and  demand,  the  Game  Laws, 
the  production  of  cabbages  for  towns,  the  in- 
iquity of  an  Established  Church,  and  the  bad 
metre  of  the  Psalms  of  David. 

"  You  must  'ave  henterprise,  or  it's  hall  hup 
with  you  farmers." 

"Ay,  ay,"  responded  Drumsheugh,  after  a 
long  pause,  and  then  every  man  concentrated 
his  attention  on  the  belfry  of  the  kirk. 

"  Is  there  onything  ava'  in  the  body,  think 
ye,  Domsie,"  as  Mr.  Hopps  bustled  into  kirk, 
"  or  is't  a'  wind  ?  " 

"  Three  wechtfu's  o'  naething,  Drumsheugh  ; 
a*  peety  the  puir  man  if  Jamie  Soutar  gets  a 
haud  o*  him." 

Jamie  was  the  cynic  of  the  Glen — who  had 
pricked  many  a  wind  bag — and  there  was  a 
general  feeling  that  his  meeting  with  Mr. 
Hopps  would  not  be  devoid  of  interest. 
When  he  showed  himself  anxious  to  learn  next 
Sabbath,  any  man  outside  Drumtochty  might 
have  been  deceived,  for  Jamie  could  withdraw 
every  sign  of  intelligence  from  his  face,  as 
when  shutters  close  upon  a  shop  window. 
Our  visitor  fell  at  once  into  the  trap,  and  made 


i82  CUNNING  SPEECH  OF  DRUMTOCHTY 

things  plain  to  the  meanest  capacity,  until 
Jamie  elicited  from  the  guileless  Southron 
that  he  had  never  heard  of  the  Act  of  Union ; 
that  Adam  Smith  was  a  new  book  he  hoped  to 
buy ;  that  he  did  not  know  the  difference  be- 
tween an  Arminian  and  a  Calvinist,  and  that 
he  supposed  the  Confession  of  Faith  was  in- 
vented in  Edinburgh.  This  in  the  briefest 
space  of  time,  and  by  way  of  information  to 
Drumtochty.  James  was  making  for  general 
literature,  and  had  still  agriculture  in  reserve, 
when  Drumsheugh  intervened  in  the  humanity 
of  his  heart. 

A*  dinna  like  tae  interrupt  yir  conversation, 
Maister  Hopps,  but  it's  no  verra  safe  for  ye  tae 
be  stannin'  here  sae  lang.  Oor  air  hes  a  bit 
nip  in't,  and  is  mair  searchin'  than  doon  Sooth. 
Jamie  'ill  be  speirin'  a'  mornin'  gin  ye  'ill 
answer  him,  but  a'm  thinkin'  ye'ill  be  warmer 
in  the  kirk." 

And  Drumsheugh  escorted  Mr.  Hopps  to 
cover,  who  began  to  suspect  that  he  had  been 
turned  inside  out,  and  found  wanting. 

Drumtochty  had  listened  with  huge  delight, 
but  without  a  trace  of  expression,  and,  on  Mr. 


CUNNING  SPEECH  OFDRUMTOCHTY  183 

Hopps  reaching  shelter,  three  boxes  were 
offered  Jamie. 

The  group  was  still  lost  in  admiration  when 
Drumsheugh  returned  from  his  errand  of 
mercy. 

"  Sallr  ye've  dune  the  job  this  time,  Jamie. 
Ye're  an  awfu*  creetic.  Yon  man  'ill  keep  a 
quiet  cheep  till  he  gets  Sooth.  It  passes  me 
hoo  a  body  wi'  sae  little  in  him  hes  the  face 
tae  open  his  mooth." 

"  Ye  did  it  weel,  Jamie,"  Domsie  added,  "  a 
clean  furrow  frae  end  tae  end/' 

"  Toots,  fouk,  yir  makin'  ower  muckle  o'  it. 
It  wes  licht  grund,  no  worth  puttin*  in  a  ploo." 

Mr.  Hopps  explained  to  me,  before  leaving, 
that  he  had  been  much  pleased  with  the  scen- 
ery of  our  Glen,  but  disappointed  in  the 
people. 

"  They  may  not  be  hignorant,"  said  the  little 
man  doubtfully,  "  but  no  man  could  call  them 
haffable." 

It  flashed  on  me  for  the  first  time  that  per- 
haps there  may  have  been  the  faintest  want  of 
geniality  in  the  Drumtochty  manner,  but  it 
was  simply  the  reticence  of  a  subtle  and  con- 


i84  CUNNING  SPEECH  OF  DRUMTOCHTY 

scientious  people.  Intellect  with  us  had  been 
brought  to  so  fine  an  edge  by  the  Shorter 
Catechism  that  it  could  detect  endless  distinc- 
tions, and  was  ever  on  the  watch  against  in- 
accuracy. Farmers  who  could  state  the  eso- 
teric doctrine  of  "  spiritual  independence"  be- 
tween the  stilts  of  the  plough,  and  talked 
familiarly  of  "  co-ordinate  jurisdiction  with 
mutual  subordination,"  were  not  likely  to  fall 
into  the  vice  of  generalisation.  When  James 
Soutar  was  in  good  fettle,  he  could  trace  the 
whole  history  of  Scottish  secession  from  the 
beginning,  winding  his  way  through  the  maze 
of  Original  Seceders  and  Cameronians,  Burgh- 
ers and  Anti-Burghers — there  were  days  when 
he  would  include  the  Glassites, — with  unfalter- 
ing step  ;  but  this  was  considered  a  feat  even  in 
Drumtochty,  and  it  was  admitted  that  Jamie 
had  "  a  gift  o'  discreemination."  We  all  had 
the  gift  in  measure,  and  dared  not  therefore 
allow  ourselves  the  expansive  language  of  the 
South.  What  right  had  any  human  being  to 
fling  about  superlative  adjectives,  seeing  what 
a  big  place  the  world  is,  and  how  little  we 
know  ?     Purple  adjectives  would  have  been  as 


CUNNING  SPEECH  OF  DRUMTOCHTY  185 

much  out  of  place  in  our  conversation  as  a  bird 
of  paradise  among  our  muirfowl. 

Mr.  Hopps  was  so  inspired  by  one  of 
our  sunsets — to  his  credit  let  that  be  told — 
that  he  tried  to  drive  Jamie  into  extrava- 
gance. 

"  No  bad  !  I  call  it  glorious,  and  if  it  hisn't, 
then  I'd  like  to  know  what  his." 

"  Man,"  replied  Soutar  austerely,  "  ye  'ill 
surely  keep  ae  word  for  the  twenty-first  o'  Ree- 
velation." 

Had  any  native  used  "  magnificent,"  there 
would  have  been  an  uneasy  feeling  in  the  Glen  ; 
the  man  must  be  suffering  from  wind  in  the 
head,  and  might  upset  the  rotation  of  crops, 
sowing  his  young  grass  after  potatoes,  or  re- 
placing turnip  with  beetroot.  But  nothing  of 
that  sort  happened  in  my  time ;  we  kept  our- 
selves well  in  hand.  It  rained  in  torrents  else- 
where, with  us  it  only  "  threatened  tae  be 
weet" — some  provision  had  to  be  made  for  the 
deluge.  Strangers,  in  the  pride  of  health,  de- 
scribed themselves  as  "fit  for  anything,"  but 
Hillocks,  who  died  at  ninety-two,  and  never 
had  an  hour's  illness,  did  not  venture,  in  his 


186  CUNNING  SPEECH  OF  DRUMTOCHTY 

prime,  beyond  "  Gaein'  aboot,  a'm  thankfu'  to 
say,  gaein'  aboot." 

When  one  was  seriously  ill,  he  was  said  to 
be  "  gey  an'  sober,"  and  no  one  died  in  Drum- 
tochty — "  he  slippit  awa." 

Hell  and  heaven  were  pulpit  words ;  in  pri- 
vate life  we  spoke  of  "  the  ill  place"  and  "  oor 
lang  hame." 

When  the  corn  sprouted  in  the  stooks  one 
late  wet  harvest,  and  Burnbrae  lost  half  his 
capital,  he  only  said,  "  It's  no  lichtsome,"  and 
no  congratulations  on  a  good  harvest  ever  ex- 
tracted more  from  Drumsheugh  than  "  A' 
daurna  complain." 

Drumsheugh  might  be  led  beyond  bounds 
in  reviewing  a  certain  potato  transaction,  but, 
as  a  rule,  he  was  a  master  of  measured  speech. 
After  the  privilege  of  much  intercourse  with 
that  excellent  man,  I  was  able  to  draw  up  his 
table  of  equivalents  for  the  three  degrees  of 
wickedness.  When  there  was  just  a  suspicion 
of  trickiness — neglecting  the  paling  between 
your  cattle  and  your  neighbour's  clover  field — 
"  He's  no  juist  the  man  for  an  elder."  If  it 
deepened    into    deceit — running    a    "greasy" 


IN    A   COTTAGE   KITCHEN 


CUNNING  SPEECH  OF  DRUMTOCHTY  187 

horse  for  an  hour  before  selling — "  He  wud  be 
the  better  o'  anither  dip."  And  in  the  case  of 
downright  fraud — finding  out  what  a  man  had 
offered  for  his  farm  and  taking  it  over  his  head 
— the  offender  was  "an  ill  gettit  wratch." 
The  two  latter  phrases  were  dark  with  theol- 
ogy, and  even  the  positive  degree  of  condem- 
nation had  an  ecclesiastical  flavour. 

When  Drumsheugh  approved  any  one,  he 
was  content  to  say,  "  He  micht  be  waur,"  a 
position  beyond  argument.  On  occasion  he 
ventured  upon  bolder  assertions  :  "There's  nae 
mischief  in  Domsie  ;"  and  once  I  heard  him  in 
a  white  heat  of  enthusiasm  pronounce  Dr. 
Davidson,  our  parish  minister,  "  A  graund  man 
ony  wy  ye  tak  him."  But  he  seemed  ashamed 
after  this  outburst,  and  "  shooed"  the  crows 
off  the  corn  with  needless  vigour. 

No  Drumtochty  man  would  commit  himself 
to  a  positive  statement  on  any  subject  if  he 
could  find  a  way  of  escape,  not  because  his 
mind  was  confused,  but  because  he  was  usually 
in  despair  for  an  accurate  expression.  It  was 
told  for  years  in  the  Glen,  with  much  relish 
and  almost  funereal  solemnity,  how  a  Drum- 


1 88  CUNNING  SPEECH  OF  DRUMTOCHTY 

tochty  witness  had  held  his  own  in  an  ecclesias- 
tical court. 

"  X°u  are  beadle  in  the  parish  of  Pitscourie," 
began  the  advocate  with  a  light  heart,  not 
knowing  the  witness's  birthplace. 

"  It's  a  fac',"  after  a  long  pause  and  a  careful 
review  of  the  whole  situation. 

"You  remember  that  Sabbath  when  the 
minister  of  Netheraird  preached." 

"  Weel,  a'll  admit  that,"  making  a  concession 
to  justice. 

"  Did  ye  see  him  in  the  vestry  ?  " 

"  A'  canna  deny  it." 

"  Was  he  intoxicated  ?  " 

The  crudeness  of  this  question  took  away 
Drumtochty's  breath,  and  suggested  that  some- 
thing must  have  been  left  out  in  the  creation 
of  that  advocate.  Our  men  were  not  bigoted 
abstainers,  but  I  never  heard  any  word  so 
coarse  and  elementary  as  intoxicated  used  in 
Drumtochty.  Conversation  touched  this  kind 
of  circumstance  with  delicacy  and  caution,  for 
we  keenly  realised  the  limitations  of  human 
knowledge. 

"He  hed  his  mornin',"  served   all   ordinary 


CUNNING  SPEECH  OF  DRUMf  OCEtTY  189 

purposes,  and  in  cases  of  emergency,  such  as 
Muirtown  market : 

"  Ye  cud  see  he  hed  been  tastin'." 

When  an  advocate  forgot  himself  so  far  as 
to  say  intoxicated,  a  Drumtochty  man  might 
be  excused  for  being  upset. 

"  Losh,  man,"  when  he  had  recovered,  "  hoo 
cud  ony  richt-thinkin'  man  sweer  tae  sic  an 
awfu'  word  ?  Na,  na,  a'  daurna  use  that  kin* 
o'  langidge  ;  it's  no  cannie." 

The  advocate  tried  again,  a  humbler,  wiser 
man. 

"  Was  there  a  smell  of  drink  on  him  ?  " 

"  Noo,  since  ye  press  me,  a'll  juist  tell  ye  the 
hale  truth  ;  it  wes  doonricht  stupid  o'  me,  but, 
as  sure  as  a'm  living  a*  clean  forgot  tae  try 
him." 

Then  the  chastened  counsel  gathered  himself 
up  for  his  last  effort. 

"  Will  you  answer  one  question,  sir  ?  you  are 
on  your  oath.  Did  you  see  anything  unusual 
in  Mr.  MacOmish's  walk  ?     Did  he  stagger  ?  " 

"  Na,"  when  he  had  spent  two  minutes  in 
recalling  the  scene.  "  Na,  I  cudna  say  stagger, 
but  he  micht  gie  a  bit  trimmil." 


i9o  CUNNING  SPEECH  OF  DRUMTOCHTY 

"  We  are  coming  to  the  truth  now ;  what  did 
you  consider  the  cause  of  the  trimmiling,  as 
you  call  it  ?  "  and  the  innocent  young  advocate 
looked  round  in  triumph. 

"  Weel,"  replied  Drumtochty,  making  a  clean 
breast  of  it,  "  since  ye  maun  hae  it,  a'  heard 
that  he  wes  a  very  learned  man,  and  it  cam 
intae  ma  mind  that  the  Hebrew,  which,  a'm 
telt,  is  a  very  contrairy  langidge,  hed  gaen 
doon  and  settled  in  his  legs." 

The  parish  of  Netheraird  was  declared  va- 
cant, but  it  was  understood  that  the  beadle  of 
Pitscourie  had  not  contributed  to  this  decision. 

His  own  parish  followed  the  trial  with  intense 
interest,  and  were  much  pleased  with  Andra's 
appearance. 

"  Sail,"  said  Hillocks,  "  Andra  has  mair 
gumption  than  ye  wud  think,  and  yon  advocat 
didna  mak  muckle  o'  him.  Na,  na,  Andra 
wesna  brocht  up  in  the  Glen  for  naethin'. 
Maister  MacOmish  may  hae  taen  his  gless 
atween  the  Hebrew  and  the  Greek,  and  it's  no 
verra  suitable  for  a  minister,  but  that's  anither 
thing  frae  bein'  intoxicat." 

"  Keep's  a*,  if  ye  were  tae  pit  me  in  the  box 


CUNNING  SPEECH  OFDRUMTOCHTY  191 

this  meenut,  a'  cudna  sweer  a'  hed  ever  seen  a 
man  intoxicat  in  ma  life,  except  a  puir  body  o* 
an  English  bag-man  at  Muirtown  Station.  A* 
doot  he  hed  bin  meddlin'  wi'  speerits,  and  they 
were  wheelin'  him  tae  his  kerridge  in  a  lug- 
gage barrow.  It  wes  a  fearsome  sicht,  and 
eneugh  tae  keep  ony  man  frae  speakin*  aboot 
intoxicat  in  yon  louse  wy." 

Archie  Moncur  fought  the  drinking  customs 
of  the  Glen  night  and  day  with  moderate  suc- 
cess, and  one  winter's  night  he  gave  me  a  study 
in  his  subject  which,  after  the  lapse  of  years,  I 
still  think  admirable  for  its  reserve  power  and 
Dantesque  conclusion. 

"  They  a'  begin  in  a  sma'  wy,"  explained 
Archie,  almost  hidden  in  the  depths  of  my 
reading  chair,  and  emphasising  his  points  with 
a  gentle  motion  of  his  right  hand ;  "  naethin' 
tae  mention  at  first,  juist  a  gless  at  an  orra 
time — a  beerial  or  a  merridge — and  maybe  New 
Year.  That's  the  first  stage ;  they  ca'  that 
moderation.  Aiftera  whilie  they  takamornin' 
wi'  a  freend,  and  syne  a  gless  at  the  public- 
hoose  in  the  evenin',  and  they  treat  ane  anither 
on   market    days.     That's   the    second   stage; 


i92  CUNNING  SPEECH  OF  DRUMTOCHTY 

that's  *  tastinV  Then  they  need  it  reg'lar  every 
day,  nicht  an*  mornin',  and  they'll  sit  on  at 
nicht  till  they're  turned  oot.  They  'ill  fecht 
ower  the  Confession  noo,  and  laist  Sabbath's 
sermon,  in  the  Kildrummie  train,  till  it's  clean 
reediklus.  That's  drammin',  and  when  they've 
hed  a  year  or  twa  at  that  they  hae  their  first 
spatie  (spate  is  a  fiver  flood),  and  that  gies 
them  a  bit  fricht.  But  aff  they  set  again,  and 
then  comes  anither  spatie,  and  the  doctor  hes 
tae  bring  them  roond.  They  ca'  (drive)  cannie 
for  a  year  or  sae,  but  the  feein'  market  puts  the 
feenishin'  titch.  They  slip  aff  sudden  in  the 
end,  and  then  they  juist  gang  plunk — ay,"  said 
Archie  in  a  tone  of  gentle  meditation,  looking, 
as  it  were,  over  the  edge,  "  juist  plunk." 

Nothing  ever  affected  my  imagination  more 
powerfully  than  the  swift  surprise  and  grue* 
some  suggestion  of  that  "  plunk." 

But  the  literary  credit  of  Drumtochty  rested 
on  a  broad  basis,  and  no  one  could  live  with  U9 
without  having  his  speech  braced  for  life.  You 
felt  equal  to  any  emergency,  and  were  always 
able  to  express  your  mind  with  some  degree  of 
accuracy,  which  is  one  of  the  luxuries  of  life. 


CUNNING  SPEECH  OFDRUMTOCHTY  193 

There  is,  for  instance,  a  type  of  idler  who  ex- 
asperates one  to  the  point  of  assault,  and  whom 
one  hungers  to  describe  after  a  becoming  man- 
ner. He  was  rare  in  the  cold  air  of  the  North, 
but  we  had  produced  one  specimen,  and  it 
was  my  luck  to  be  present  when  he  came 
back  from  a  distant  colony,  and  Jamie  Soutar 
welcomed  him  in  the  kirkyard. 

"  Weel,  Chairlie,"  and  Jamie  examined  the 
well-dressed  prodigal  from  top  to  toe,  "  this  is 
a  prood  moment  for  Drumtochty,  and  an  awfu' 
relief  tae  ken  yir  safe.  Man,  ye  hevna  wanted 
meat  nor  claithes ;  a*  tak  it  rael  neeburly  o'  ye 
tae  speak  ava  wi'  us  auld-fashioned  fouk. 

"  Ye  needna  look  soor  nor  cock  yir  nose  in 
the  air,  for  you  an'  me  are  auld  freends,  and 
yir  puir  granny  wes  na  mair  anxious  aboot  ye 
than  a'  wes. 

"A'm  feared  that  laddie  o'  Bell's  'ill  kill 
himsel'  oot  in  Ameriky,'  were  ma  verra  words 
tae  Hillocks  here  ;  '  he  'ill  be  slavin'  his  flesh  aff 
his  banes  tae  mak  a  fortune  and  keep  her  com- 
fortable.' 

"  It  was  a  rael  satisfaction  tae  read  yir  letter 
frae  the  backwoods — or  was't  a  public-hoose  in 
N 


i94  CUNNING  SPEECH  OFDRUMTOCHTY 

New  York  ?  ma  memory's  no  what  it  used  to 
be — tellin'  hoo  ye  were  aye  thinkin'  o'  yer  auld 
granny,  and  wantin'  tae  come  hame  and  be  a 
comfort  tae  her  if  she  wud  send  ye  out  twenty 
pund. 

"  The  bit  that  affeckit  me  maist  wes  the  text 
frae  the  Prodigal  Son — it  cam  in  sae  natural. 
Mony  a  broken  hert  hes  that  story  bund  up,  as 
we  ken  weel  in  this  Glen ;  but  it's  dune  a  feck 
o'  mischief  tae — that  gude  word  o'  the  Maister. 
Half  the  wastrels  in  the  warld  pay  their  pas- 
sage  hame  wi'  that  Parable,  and  get  a  bran  new 
outfit  for  anither  start  in  the  far  country. 

"  Noo  dinna  turn  red,  Chairlie,  for  the  nee- 
burs  ken  ye  were  tae  work  yir  wy  hame  hed  it 
no  been  for  yir  health.  But  there's  a  pack  of 
rascals  'ill  sorn  on  their  father  as  lang  as  he's 
livin',  and  they  'ill  stairve  a  weedowed  mither, 
and  they  'ill  tak  a  sister's  wages,  and  if  they 
camja  get  ony  better  a  dune  body  o'  eighty  'ill 
serve  them. 

"  Man,  Chairlie,  if  a'  hed  ma  wull  wi'  thae 
wawfies,  I  wud  ship  them  aff  tae  a  desert  island, 
wi'  ae  sack  o'  seed  potatoes  and  anither  o'  seed 
corn,  and  let  them  work  or  dee.     A'  ken  yir  wi' 


CUNNING  SPEECH  OF  DRUMTOCHTY  195 

me  there,  for  ye  aye  hed  an  independent  spirit, 
and  wesna  feared  tae  bend  yir  back. 

"  Noo,  if  a'  cam  across  ane  o'  thae  meeserable 
objects  in  Drumtochty,  div  ye  ken  the  advice 
I  wud  gie  him  ? 

"  A  wud  tell  the  daidlin',  thowless,  feckless, 
fushionless  wratch  o'  a  cratur  tae  watch  for 
the  first  spate  and  droon  himsel'  in  the 
Tochty." 

"  What's  he  aff  through  the  graves  ffor  in  sic 
a  hurry?"  and  Jamie  followed  Charlie's  retreat- 
ing figure  with  a  glance  of  admirable  amaze- 
ment ;  "  thae's  no  very  gude  mainners  he's 
learned  in  Americky." 

"Thank  ye,  Jeemes,  thank  ye;  we're  a' 
obleeged  tae  ye,"  said  Drumsheugh.  "  A'  wes 
ettlin'  tae  lay  ma  hands  on  the  whup-ma-denty 
(fop)  masel,  but  ma  certes,  he's  hed  his  kail  het 
this  mornin'.  Div  ye  think  he  'ill  tak  yir 
advice  ?  " 

"  Nae  fear  o'  him  ;  thae  neer-dae-weels  haena 
the  spunk ;  but  am  expeckin'  he  'ill  flee  the 
pairish." 

Which  he  did.  Had  you  called  him  indolent 
or  useless  he  had  smiled,  but  "  daidlin',  thow- 


196  CUNNING  SPEECH  OF  DRUMTOCHTY 

less,  feckless,  fushionless  wratch,"  drew  blood 
at  every  stroke,  like  a  Russian  knout. 

We  had  tender  words  also,  that  still  bring 
the  tears  to  my  eyes,  and  chief  among  them 
was  "couthy."  What  did  it  mean  ?  It  meant 
a  letter  to  some  tired  townsman,  written  in 
homely  Scotch,  and  bidding  him  come  to  get 
new  life  from  the  Drumtochty  air;  and  the 
grip  of  an  honest  hand  on  the  Kildrummie 
platform  whose  warmth  lasted  till  you  reached 
the  Glen ;  and  another  welcome  at  the  garden- 
gate  that  mingled  with  the  scent  of  honeysuckle, 
and  moss-roses,  and  thyme,  and  carnations; 
and  the  best  of  everything  that  could  be  given 
you ;  and  motherly  nursing  in  illness,  with 
skilly  remedies  of  the  olden  time ;  and  wise, 
cheery  talk  that  spake  no  ill  of  man  or  God ; 
and  loud  reproaches  if  you  proposed  to  leave 
under  a  month  or  two ;  and  absolute  conditions 
that  you  must  return ;  and  a  load  of  country 
dainties  for  a  bachelor's  bare  commons;  and 
far  more,  that  cannot  be  put  into  words,  of 
hospitality,  and  kindness,  and  quietness,  and 
restfulness,  and  loyal  friendship  of  hearts  now 
turned  to  dust  in  the  old  kirkyard. 


CUNNING  SPEECH  OF  DRUMTOCHTY  197 

But  the  best  of  all  our  words  were  kept  for 
spiritual  things,  and  the  description  of  a  godly 
man.  We  did  not  speak  of  the  "  higher  life," 
nor  of  a  "  beautiful  Christian,"  for  this  way  of 
putting  it  would  not  have  been  in  keeping  with 
the  genius  of  Drumtochty.  Religion  there  was 
very  lowly  and  modest — an  inward  walk  with 
God.  No  man  boasted  of  himself,  none  told 
the  secrets  of  the  soul.  But  the  Glen  took 
notice  of  its  saints,  and  did  them  silent  rever- 
ence, which  they  themselves  never  knew. 
Jamie  Soutar  had  a  wicked  tongue,  and,  at  a 
time,  it  played  round  Archie's  temperance 
schemes,  but  when  that  good  man's  back  was 
turned  Jamie  was  the  first  to  do  him  justice. 

"  It  wud  set  us  better  if  we  did  as  muckle 
gude  as  Archie;  he's  a  richt  livin'  man- and 
weel  prepared." 

Our  choicest  tribute  was  paid  by  general  con- 
sent to  Burnbrae,  and  it  may  be  partiality,  but 
it  sounds  to  me  the  deepest  in  religious  speech. 
Every  cottage,  strangers  must  understand,  had 
at  least  two  rooms — the  kitchen  where  the 
work  was  done,  that  we  called  the  "  But,"  and 
tfiere  all  kinds  of  people  came ;    and  the  inner 


198  CUNNING  SPEECH  OFDRUMTOCHTY 

chamber  which  held  the  household  treasures, 
that  we  called  the  "  Ben,"  and  there  none  but  a 
few  honoured  visitors  had  entrance.  So  we 
imagined  an  outer  court  of  the  religious  life 
where  most  of  us  made  our  home,  and  a  secret 
place  where  only  God's  nearest  friends  could 
enter,  and  it  was  said  of  Burnbrae,  "  He's  far 
ben."  His  neighbours  had  watched  him,  for  a 
generation  and  more,  buying  and  selling, 
ploughing  and  reaping,  going  out  and  in  the 
common  ways  of  a  farmer's  life,  and  had  not 
missed  the  glory  of  the  soul.  Tne  cynic  of 
Drumtochty  summed  up  his  character :  "  There's 
a  puckle  gude  fouk  in  the  pairish,  and  ane  or 
twa  o'  the  ither  kind,  and  the  maist  o'  us  are 
half  and  between,"  said  Jamie  Soutar,  "but 
there's  ae  thing  ye  may  be  sure  o',  Burnbrae  is 
<  far  ben/  " 


MRS.    MACFADYEN 


A   WISE   WOMAN 


OUR  SERMON  TASTER 

A  Drumtochty  man,  standing  six  feet  three 
in  his  boots,  sat  himself  down  one  day  in  the 
study  of  a  West-end  minister,  and  gazed  before 
him  with  the  countenance  of  a  sphinx. 

The  sight  struck  awe  into  the  townsman's 
heart,  and  the  power  of  speech  was  paralysed 
within  him. 

"  A'm  frae  Drumtochty,"  began  a  deep 
solemn  voice.  "Ye  'ill  hae  heard  of  Drum- 
tochty, of  coorse.  A've  jined  the  polls  ;  the 
pay  is  no  that  bad,  and  the  work  is  naethin' 
tae  an  able-bodied  man." 

When  these  particulars  had  been  digested 
by  the  audience — 

"It's  a  crooded  place  London,  and  the 
fouks  aye  in  a  tiravie  (commotion),  rinnin' 
here  an'  rinnin'  there,  and  the  maist  feck  o' 
them  dinna  ken  whar  they're  gaein. 


202  A  WISE   WOMAN 

"  It's  officer  this  and  officer  that  frae  morn- 
in'  till  nicht.  It's  peetifu'  tae  see  the  helpless- 
ness o'  the  bodies  in  their  ain  toon.  And 
they're  freevolous,"  continued  the  figure,  re- 
freshing  itself  with  a  reminiscence. 

"  It  wes  this  verra  mornin'  that  a  man  askit 
me  hoo  tae  get  tae  the  Strand. 

"  *  Haud  on,'  I  says,  'till  ye  come  tae  a  cross 
street,  and  dinna  gang  doon  it,  and  when  ye 
see  anither  pass  it,  but  whup  roond  the  third, 
and  yir  nose  'ill  bring  ye  tae  the  Strand.* 

"  He  was  a  shachlin  bit  cratur,  and  he  lookit 
up  at  me. 

" '  Where  were  you  born,  officer  }*  in  his 
clippit  English  tongue. 

"  *  Drumtochty,'  a'  said,  '  an*  we  hev  juist  ae 
man  as  sma'  as  you  in  the  hale  Glen/ 

"  He  gied  awa'  lauchin'  like  tae  split  his 
sides,  an'  the  fac'  is  there's  no  ane  o'  them 
asks  me  a  question  but  he  lauchs.  They're  a 
licht-headed  fouk,  and  no  sair  educat.  But  we 
maunna  boast ;  they  hevna  hed  oor  advan- 
tages." 

The  minister  made  a  brave  effort  to  assert 
himself. 


OUR  SERMON  TASTER  203 

"  Is  there  anything  I  can  do  ?"  but  the  figure 
simply  waved  its  hand  and  resumed  : 

"  A'm  comin'  tae  that,  but  a*  thocht  ye  wud 
be  wantin'  ma  opeenion  o'  London. 

"  Weel,  ye  see,  the  first  thing  a'  did,  of 
coorse,  after  settlin'  doon,  was  tae  gae  roond 
the  kirks  and  hear  what  kin'  o'  ministers  they 
hae  up  here.  A've  been  in  saxteen  kirks  the 
last  three  months,  an*  a'  wud  hae  been  in  mair 
had  it  no  bin  for  ma  oors. 

"  Ay,  ay,  a'  ken  ye  'ill  be  wantin*  ma  judg- 
ment," interpreting  a  movement  in  the  chair, 
"  an'  ye  'ill  hae  it.  Some  wes  puir  stuff — plenty 
o'  water  and  little  meal — and  some  wesna  sae 
bad  for  England.  But  ye  'ill  be  pleased  to 
know,"  here  the  figure  relaxed  and  beamed  on 
the  anxious  minister,  "  that  a'm  rael  weel  satis- 
fied wi'  yersel',  and  a'm  thinkin'  o'  sittin'  under 
ye. 

"  Man,"  were  Drumtochty's  last  words,  "  a' 
wish  Elspeth  Macfadyen  cud  hear  ye,  her  'at 
prees  (tastes)  the  sermons  in  oor  Glen ;  a'  be- 
lieve she  wud  pass  ye,  an'  if  ye  got  a  certeeficat 
frae  Elspeth,  ye  wud  be  a  prood  man." 

Drumtochty  read  widely — Soutar  was  soaked 


2o4  A  WISE  WOMAN 

in  Carlyle,  and  Marget  Howe  knew  her  "  In 
Memoriam"  by  heart — but  our  intellectual  life 
centred  on  the  weekly  sermon.  Men  thought 
about  Sabbath  as  they  followed  the  plough  in 
our  caller  air,  and  braced  themselves  for  an  effort 
at  the  giving  out  of  the  text.  The  hearer  had 
his  snuff  and  selected  his  attitude,  and  from 
that  moment  to  the  close  he  never  moved  nor 
took  his  eyes  off  the  preacher.  There  was  a 
tradition  that  one  of  the  Disruption  fathers  had 
preached  in  the  Free  Kirk  for  one  hour  and 
fifty  minutes  on  the  bulwarks  of  Zion,  and  had 
left  the  impression  that  he  was  only  playing 
round  the  outskirts  of  his  subject.  No  preacher 
with  anything  to  say  could  complain  of  Drum- 
tochty,  for  he  got  a  patient,  honest,  critical 
hearing  from  beginning  to  end.  If  a  preacher 
were  slightly  equipped,  the  audience  may  have 
been  trying.  Well-meaning  evangelists  who 
came  with  what  they  called  "  a  simple  Gospel 
address,"  and  were  accustomed  to  have  their 
warmer  passages  punctuated  with  rounds  of 
spiritual  applause  in  the  shape  of  smiles  and 
nods,  lost  heart  in  face  of  that  judicial  front, 
and   afterwards  described   Drumtochty   in  the 


OUR  SERMON  TASTER  205 

religious  papers  as  "  dead."  It  was  as  well  that 
these  good  men  walked  in  a  vain  show,  for,  as 
a  matter  of  fact,  their  hearers  were  painfully 
alive. 

"  Whar  did  yon  wakely  body  come  frae,  Burn- 
brae?  it  wes  licht  wark  the  day.  There  wes 
nae  thocht  worth  mentioning  and  onything  he 
hed  wes  eked  oot  by  repeetition.  Tae  sae 
naethin*  o*  bairnly  stories." 

"  He  lives  aboot  England,  a'm  telt,  an'  dis  a 
feck  o'  gude  in  his  ain  place.  He  hesna  muckle 
in  his  head,  a'll  alloo  that,  Netherton,  but  he's 
an  earnest  bit  cratur." 

"  Ou  ay,  and  fu'  o*  self-conceit.  Did  ye  hear 
hoo  often  he  said  TPa'  got  as  far  as  saxty- 
three,  and  then  a'  lost  coont.  But  a'  keepit 
'  dear/  it  cam  tae  the  hundred  neat. 

" '  Weel  ?'  a'  says  tae  Elspeth  Macfadyen. 
A'  kent  she  wud  hae  his  measure. 

" '  Gruel,  Netherton,  juist  gruel,  and  eneuch 
tae  scunner  (disgust)  ye  wi*  sugar.' " 

It  was  the  birthright  of  every  native  of  the 
parish  to  be  a  critic,  and  certain  were  allowed 
to  be  experts  in  special  departments — Lachlan 
Campbell  in  doctrine  and  Jamie  Soutar  in  logic 


2o6  A  WISE  WOMAN 

— but  as  an  old  round  practitioner  Mrs.  Mac- 
fadyen  had  a  solitary  reputation.  It  rested  on 
a  long  series  of  unreversed  judgments,  with 
felicitous  strokes  of  description  that  passed  into 
the  literary  capital  of  the  Glen.  One  felt  it 
was  genius,  and  could  only  note  contributing 
circumstances — an  eye  that  took  in  the  preacher 
from  the  crown  of  his  head  to  the  sole  of  his 
foot ;  an  almost  uncannie  insight  into  character; 
the  instinct  to  seize  on  every  scrap  of  evidence ; 
a  memory  that  was  simply  an  automatic  regis- 
ter ;  an  unfailing  sense  of  fitness ;  and  an  abso- 
lute impartiality  regarding  subject. 

It  goes  without  saying  that  Mrs.  Macfadyen 
did  not  take  nervous  little  notes  during  the 
sermon — all  writing  on  Sabbath,  in  kirk  or  out- 
side, was  strictly  forbidden  in  Drumtochty — or 
mark  her  Bible,  or  practise  any  other  profane 
device  of  feeble-minded  hearers.  It  did  not 
matter  how  elaborate  or  how  incoherent  a  ser- 
mon might  be,  it  could  not  confuse  our  critic. 

When  John  Peddie  of  Muirtown,  who  always 
approached  two  hours,  and  usually  had  to  leave 
out  the  last  head,  took  time  at  the  Drumtochty 
Fast,  and  gave,  at  full  length,  his  famous  dis- 


OUR  SERMON   TASTER  207 

course  on  the  total  depravity  of  the  human 
race,  from  the  text,  "  Arise,  shine,  for  thy  light 
is  come,"  it  may  be  admitted  that  the  Glen 
wavered  in  its  confidence.  Human  nature  has 
limitations,  and  failure  would  have  been  no  dis- 
credit to  Elspeth. 

"  They  were  savin'  at  the  Presbytery,"  Burn- 
brae  reported,  "  that  it  hes  mair  than  seeventy 
heads,  coontin'  pints,  of  coorse,  and  a'  can  weel 
believe  it.  Na,  na,  it's  no  tae  be  expeckit  that 
Elspeth  cud  gie  them  a'  aifter  ae  hearin'." 

Jamie  Souter  looked  in  to  set  his  mind  at 
rest,  and  Elspeth  went  at  once  to  work. 

"  Sit  doon,  Jamie,  for  it  canna  be  dune  in  a 
meenut." 

It  took  twenty-three  minutes  exactly,  for 
Jamie  watched  the  clock. 

*'  That's  the  laist,  makin'  seeventy-four,  and 
ye  may  depend  on  every  ane  but  that  fourth 
pint  under  the  sixth  head.  Whether  it  wes 
the  *  beginnin'  o'  faith'  or  '  the  origin,'  a'  canna 
be  sure,  for  he  cleared  his  throat  at  the 
time." 

Peter  Bruce  stood  helpless  at  the  Junction 
next  Friday — Drumtochty  was  celebrating  Els- 


2o8  A    WISE   WOMAN 

peth — and  the  achievement  established  her 
for  life. 

Probationers  who  preached  in  the  vacancy- 
had  heard  rumours,  and  tried  to  identify  their 
judge,  with  the  disconcerting  result  that  they 
addressed  their  floweriest  passages  to  Mistress 
Stirton,  who  was  the  stupidest  woman  in  the 
Free  Kirk,  and  had  once  stuck  in  the  "  chief 
end  of  man."  They  never  suspected  the  sonsy 
motherly  woman,  two  pews  behind  Donald 
Menzies,  with  her  face  of  demure  interest  and 
general  air  of  country  simplicity.  It  was  as 
well  for  the  probationers  that  they  had  not 
caught  the  glint  of  those  black  beady  eyes. 

"  It's  curious,"  Mrs.  Macfadyen  remarked  to 
me  one  day,  "  hoo  the  pulpit  fashions  change, 
juist  like  weemen's  bonnets. 

"  Noo  a'  mind  when  auld  Doctor  Ferintosh, 
him  'at  wrote  '  Judas  Iscariot  the  first  Resid- 
uary,' would  stand  twa  meenutes  facing  the 
fouk,  and  no  sit  doon  till  he  hed  his  snuff. 

"  But  thae  young  birkies  gie  oot  'at  they  see 
naebody  comin'  in,  an'  cover  their  face  wi'  ae 
hand  sae  solemn,  that  if  ye  didna  catch  them 
keekin'    through     their    fingers  tae   see   what 


OUR   SERMON    TASTER  209 

like    the    kirk    is,   ye   wud   think   they    were 
prayin'." 

"  There's  not  much  escapes  you,"  I  dared  to 
say,  and  although  the  excellent  woman  was 
not  accessible  to  gross  flattery,  she  seemed 
pleased. 

"  A'm  thankfu'  that  a'  can  see  withoot  look- 
in*  ;  an'  a'll  wager  nae  man  ever  read  his  ser 
mon  in  Drumtochty  Kirk,  an'  a'  didna  find  him 
oot.  Noo,  there's  the  new  minister  o'  Nether- 
aird,  he  writes  his  sermon  on  ae  side  o'  ten 
sheets  o'  paper,  an'  he's  that  carried  awa'  at 
the  end  o'  ilka  page  that  he  disna  ken  what 
he's  daein',  an'  the  sleeve  o'  his  goon  slips  the 
sheet  across  tae  the  ither  side  o'  the  Bible. 

"  But  Doctor  Ferintosh  wes  cleverer,  sail  it 
near  beat  me  tae  detect  him,"  and  Elspeth 
paused  to  enjoy  the  pulpit  ruse.  "  It  cam  tae 
me  sudden  ae  Sacrament  Monday,  hoo  dis  he 
aye  turn  up  twal  texts,  naither  mair  nor  less, 
and  that  set  me  thinkin'.  Then  a'  noticed  that 
he  left  the  Bible  open  at  the  place  till  anither 
text  was  due,  an'  I  wunnered  a'd  been  sae 
slow.  It  wes  this  wy  :  he  askit  the  beadle  for 
a  gless  o'  water  in  the  vestry,  and  slippit  his 
O 


2io  A   WISE   WOMAN 

sermon  in  atween  the  leaves  in  sae  mony  bits. 
AVe  wished  for  a  gallery  at  a  time,  but  there's 
mair  credit  in  findin'  it  oot  below — ay,  an* 
pleesure  tae ;  a'  never  wearied  in  kirk  in  ma 
life." 

Mrs.  Macfadyen  did  not  appreciate  prodigal 
quotations  of  Scriptures,  and  had  her  suspi- 
cions of  this  practice. 

"  Tak  the  minister  o'  Pitscourie  noo ;  he's 
fair  fozzy  wi'  trokin'  in  his  gairden  an'  feedin* 
pigs,  and  hesna  studied  a  sermon  for  thirty 
year. 

"  Sae  what  dis  he  dae,  think  ye  ?  He  havers 
for  a  whilie  on  the  errors  o'  the  day,  and  syne 
he  says,  '  That's  what  man  says,  but  what  says 
the  Apostle  Paul  ?  We  shall  see  what  the 
Apostle  Paul  says.'  He  puts  on  his  glasses, 
and  turns  up  the  passage,  and  reads  maybe  ten 
verses,  and  then  he's  aff  on  the  jundy  (trot) 
again.  When  a  man  hes  naethin'  tae  say  he's 
aye  lang,  and  a've  seen  him  gie  half  an  oor  o* 
passages,  and  anither  half  oor  o'  havers. 

u  l  He's  a  Bible  preacher,  at  any  rate/  says 
Burnbrae  tae  me  laist  Fast,  for,  honest  man,  he 
hes  aye  some  gude  word  for  a  body. 


OUR  SERMON   TASTER  211 

"  '  It's  ae  thing,'  I  said  to  him,  '  tae  feed  a 
calf  wi'  milk,  and  anither  tae  gie  it  the  empty 
cogie  tae  lick.' 

"  It's  curious,  but  a've  noticed  that  when  a 
Moderate  gets  lazy  he  preaches  auld  sermons, 
but  a  Free  Kirk  minister  taks  tae  abusin'  his 
neeburs  and  readin'  screeds  o'  the  Bible. 

"  But  Maister  Pittendreigh  hes  twa  sermons, 
at  ony  rate,"  and  Elspeth  tasted  the  sweets  of 
memory  with  such  keen  relish  that  I  begged 
for  a  share. 

"Well,  ye  see  he's  terrible  prood  o'  his 
feenishes,  and  this  is  ane  o'  them  : 

"  '  Heaven,  ma  brethren,  will  be  far  grander 
than  the  hoose  o'  ony  earthly  potentate,  for 
there  ye  will  no  longer  eat  the  flesh  of  bulls 
nor  drink  the  blood  o'  goats,  but  we  shall  sook 
the  juicy  pear  and  scoop  the  loocious  meelon. 
Amen.' 

"  He  hes  nae  mair  sense  o'  humour  than  an 
owl,  and  a'  aye  haud  that  a  man  withoot  hu- 
mour sudna  be  allowed  intae  a  poopit. 

"  A'  hear  that  they  have  nae  examination  in 
humour  at  the  college ;  it's  an  awfu'  want,  for 
it  wud  keep  oot  mony  a  dreich  body. 


212  A  WISE   WOMAN 

"  But  the  meelon's  naethin*  tae  the  goat, 
that  cowed  a'thing,  at  the  Fast  tae. 

"  If  Jeems  wes  aboot  a'.daurna  mention  *t : 
he  canna  behave  himsel'  tae  this  day  gin  he 
hears  'it,  though  ye  ken  he's  a  douce  man  as 
ever  lived. 

"  It  wes  anither  feenish,  and  it  ran  this 
wy : 

"  '  Noo,  ma  freends,  a*  wull  no  be  keepin'  ye 
ony  longer,  and  ye  'ill  a'  gae  hame  tae  yir  ain 
hooses  and  mind  yir  ain  business.  And  as  sune 
as  ye  get  hame  ilka  man  'ill  gae  tae  his  closet 
and  shut  the  door,  and  stand  for  five  meenutes, 
and  ask  himsel'  this  solemn  question,  "  Am  I  a 
goat  ?"     Amen/ 

"  The  amen  near  upset  me  masel',  and  a'  hed 
tae  dunge  Jeems  wi'  ma  elbow. 

"  He  said  no  a  word  on  the  wy  back,  but  a' 
saw  it  wes  barmin'  in  him,  and  he  gied  oot 
sudden  aifter  his  dinner  as  if  he  had  been  ta'en 
unweel. 

"  A'  cam*  on  him  in  the  byre,  rowing  in  the 
strae  like  a  bairn,  and  every  ither  row  he  took 
he  wud  say,  '  Am  I  a  goat  ?' 

"  It  wes  na  cannie  for  a  man  o*  his  wecht, 


OUR  SERMON   TASTER  213 

besides  bein'  a  married  man  and  a  kirk  mem- 
ber, and  a'  gied  him  a  hearin'. 

"  He  sobered  doon,  and  a'  never  saw  him  dae 
the  like  since.  But  he  hesna  forgot,  na,  na ; 
a've  seen  a  look  come  ower  Jeems'  face  in  kirk, 
and  aVe  been  feared." 

When  the  Free  Kirk  quarrelled  in  their  va- 
cancy over  two  probationers,  Mrs.  Macfadyen 
summed  them  up  with  such  excellent  judgment 
that  they  were  thrown  over  and  peace  restored. 

u  There's  some  o'  thae  Muirtown  drapers 
can  busk  oot  their  windows  that  ye  canna  pass 
withoot  lookin' ;  there's  bits  o'  blue  and  bits  o' 
red,  and  a  ribbon  here  an'  a  lace  yonder. 

"  It's  a  bonnie  show  and  denty,  an'  no  wun- 
ner  the  lassies  stan'  and  stare. 

"  But  gae  intae  the  shop,  and  peety  me, 
there's  next  tae  naethin' ;  it's  a'  in  the  window. 

"  Noo,  that's  Maister  Popinjay,  as  neat  an' 
fikey  a  little  mannie  as  ever  a'  saw  in  a  black 
goon. 

"  His  bit  sermon  wes  six  poems — five  a'  hed 
heard  afore — four  anecdotes — three  aboot  him- 
sel'  and  ain  aboot  a  lord — twa  burnies,  ae  floo'r 
gairden,  and  a  snowstorm,  wi'  the  text  thirteen 


214  A   WISE   WOMAN 

times  and  '  beloved  '  twal ;  that  was  a';  a  takin' 
window,  and  Netherton's  lassies  cudna  sleep 
thinkin'  o'  him. 

"There's  ither  shopmen  in  Muirtown  that 
fair  scunner  ye  wi'  their  windows — they're  that 
ill  set  out — and  inside  there's  sic  a  wale  o'  stuff 
that  the  man  canna  get  what  ye  want ;  he's 
clean  smoored  wi'  his  ain  goods. 

"  It's  a  graund  shop  for  the  auld  fouk  that 
hae  plenty  o'  time  and  can  turn  ower  the  things 
by  the  'oor.  Ye  'ill  no  get  a  young  body  in- 
side the  door. 

"  That's  Maister  Auchtermuchty ;  he  hes 
mair  material  than  he  kens  hoo  tae  handle,  and 
naebody,  hearin'  him,  can  mak  head  or  tail  o' 
his  sermon. 

"  Ye  get  a  rive  at  the  Covenants  ae  meenute, 
and  a  mouthfu'  o'  justification  the  next.  Yir 
nae  suner  wi'  the  Patriarchs  than  yir  whuppit 
aff  tae  the  Apostles. 

"  It's  rich  feedin',  nae  doot,  but  sair  mixed, 
an'  no  verra  tasty." 

So  the  old  and  young  compromised,  and 
chose  Carmichael. 

Elspeth  was  candid  enough  on  occasion,  but 


MRS.    MACFADVEN'S    WALL    OF    CROCKERY 


OUR   SERMON    TASTER  215 

she  was  not  indiscreet.  She  could  convey  her 
mind  delicately  if  need  be,  and  was  a  mistress 
of  subtle  suggestion. 

When  Netherton's  nephew  preached  the  mis- 
sionary sermon — he  was  a  stout  young  man 
with  a  volcanic  voice — Mrs.  Macfadyen  could 
not  shirk  her  duty,  but  she  gave  her  judgment 
with  care. 

"  He's  a  fine  lad,  and  'ill  be  sure  to  get  a  kirk ; 
he's  been  weel  brocht  up,  and  comes  .0'  decent 
fouk. 

"  His  doctrine  soonds  richt,  and  he  'ill  no 
gang  aff  the  track.  Ye  canna  ca'  him  bashfu', 
and  he's  sure  to  be  heard." 

Her  audience  still  waited,  and  not  in  vain. 

"  But  the  Lord  hes  nae  pleesure  in  the  legs 
©'  a  man,"  and  every  one  felt  that  the  last  word 
had  been  said  on  Netherton's  nephew. 


II 

THE  COLLAPSE  OF  MRS.  MACFADYEN 

Carmichael  used  to  lament  bitterly  that  he 
had  lost  his  Gaelic,  and  laboured  plans  of  com- 
pensation for  our  Celts,  who  were  understood 
to  worship  in  English  at  an  immense  reduction 
of  profit.  One  spring  he  intercepted  a  High- 
land minister,  who  was  returning  from  his  win- 
ter's raid  on  Glasgow  with  great  spoil,  and  ar- 
ranged an  evening  service,  which  might  carry 
Lachlan  Campbell  back  to  the  golden  days  of 
Auchindarroch.  Mr.  Dugald  Mactavish  was 
himself  much  impressed  with  the  opportunity 
of  refreshing  his  exiled  brethren,  speaking 
freely  on  the  Saturday  of  the  Lowlands  as 
Babylon,  and  the  duty  of  gathering  the  out- 
casts of  Israel  into  one.  He  was  weaned  with 
difficulty  from  Gaelic,  and  only  consented  to 
preach  in  the  "  other  language"  on  condition 


THE  COLLAPSE  OF  MRS.  MACFADYEN  217 

that  he  should  not  be  restricted  in  time.  His 
soul  had  been  much  hampered  in  West  End 
churches,  where  he  had  to  appeal  for  his  new 
stove  under  the  first  head,  lest  he  should  go 
empty  away,  and  it  was  natural  for  one  escap- 
ing from  such  bondage  to  put  a  generous  inter- 
pretation on  Carmichael's  concession.  So 
Maister  Dugald  continued  unto  the  setting  of 
the  sun.  His  discourse  was  so  rich  and  varied 
that  Peddie  of  Muirtown  on  original  sin  was 
not  to  be  compared  with  it  in  breadth  of  treat- 
ment, and  Mrs.  Macfadyen  confessed  frankly 
that  she  gave  up  in  despair  before  the  preacher 
had  fairly  entered  on  his  second  hour.  Besides 
the  encounter  of  the  preacher  with  Mr.  Urijah 
Hopps,  which  carried  the  Glen  by  storm,  and 
kept  the  name  of  Mactavish  green  with  us  for 
a  generation. 

Rumours  of  this  monumental  pulpit  effort, 
with  its  stirring  circumstances,  passed  from  end 
to  end  of  the  Glen  during  the  week,  and  Peter 
himself  recognised  that  it  was  an  occasion  at 
the  Junction  on  Friday. 

"  Ye  may  as  weel  shut  aff  the  steam;  Jeems," 
Peter  explained  to  our  engine-driver,  *  an*  gle 


ai$  A   WISE  WOMAN 

them  ten  meenuts.  It's  been  by  ordinar'  at 
Drumtochty  Free  Kirk  laist  Sabbath  nicht, 
and  Drumsheugh  'ill  no  move  till  he  hears  the 
end  o't." 

And  as  soon  as  the  Muirtown  train  had  re- 
moved all  strangers,  that  worthy  man  opened 
the  campaign. 

"  What  kin*  o'  collieshangie  (disturbance)  is 
this  yeVe  been  carryin'  on,  Hillocks?  it's  doon- 
richt  aggravatin'  that  ye're  no  content  pester- 
in'  oor  life  oot  wi'  that  English  body  in  the 
kirkyaird,  but  ye  maist  needs  set  him  up  tae 
arglebargle  wi*  a  stranger  minister  at  the  Free 
Kirk.  They  say  that  the  puir  man  cud  hardly 
get  a  word  in  atween  you  and  yir  lodger. 
Burnbrae  here  is  threatenin'  ye  wi'  the  Sherra, 
and  a'  dinna  wonder. 

"  It's  nae  lauchin'  maitter,  a'  can  tell  ye, 
Drumsheugh  ;  a've  never  been  sae  black  af- 
frontit  a'  ma  life.  Burnbrae  kens  as  weel  as  ye 
dae  that  a*  wasna  tae  blame. 

"  Ye  'ill  better  clear  yersel  at  ony  rate,  Hil- 
locks, for  some  o'  the  neeburs  threep  (insist)  'at 
it  wes  you,  and  some  that  it  wes  yir  freend,  an* 
there's  ithers  declare  ye   ran  in  compt  (com- 


THE  COLLAPSE  OF  MRS.  MACFADYEN  219 

pany)  like  twa  dogs  worrying  sheep ;  it  wes 
a  bonnie  like  pliskie  (escapade)  onywy,  and 
hardly  fit  for  an  Auld  Kirk  elder" — a  sally 
much  enjoyed  by  the  audience,  who  knew  that, 
after  Whinnie,  Hillocks  was  the  doucest  man 
in  Drumtochty. 

"  Weel,  ye  see  it  wes  this  wy,"  began  Hil- 
locks, with  the  air  of  a  man  on  his  trial  for  fire 
raising.  "  Hopps  fund  oot  that  a  Hielandman 
wes  tae  preach  in  the  Free  Kirk,  and  naethin' 
wud  sateesfy  him  but  that  we  maun  gae.  A' 
micht  hae  jaloused  (suspected)  it  wesna  the 
sermon  the  wratch  wantit,  for  he  hed  the  impi- 
dence  tae  complain  that  the  Doctor  was  tedi- 
ous Sabbath  a  fortnicht  when  he  gied  us 
■  Ruth/  though  I  never  minded  '  Ruth'  gae  aff 
sae  sweet  a'  the  times  aVe  heard  it. 

"  Gin  a'  hed  imagined  what  the  ettercap 
(captious  creature)  wes  aifter  a'  wud  hae  seen 
ma  feet  in  the  fire  afore  they  carried  me  tae 
the  Free  Kirk  that  nicht. 

"  Says  he  tae  me  on  the  road,  ■  A'm  told  the 
minister  will  be  in  his  national  costume.' 

"  '  He  'ill  be  in  his  goon  and  bands,'  says  I, 
*  if  that's  what  ye  mean/  for  the  head  o'  him  is 


22o  A   WISE   WOMAN 

fu'  o*  maggots,  and  nae  man  can  tell  what  he 
wull  be  at  next. 

" '  Mister  Soutar  said  that  he  would  wear  his 
kilt,  and  that  it  would  be  an  interesting  spec- 
tacle/ 

"  '  Jamie's  been  drawing  yir  leg  (befooling 
you),'  says  I.  '  Man,  there's  naebody  wears  a 
kilt  forbye  gemkeepers  and  tourist  bodies.  Ye 
'ill  better  come  awa  name,'  and  sail,  if  a'  hed 
kent  what  wes  tae  happen,  a'  wud  hae  taken 
him  aff  below  ma  oxter. 

"  It's  no  richt  tae  mak  me  responsible,  for  a' 
tried  tae  wile  him  awa  tae  the  back  o'  the  kirk 
whar  naebody  cud  see  him,  but  he's  that 
thrawn  and  upsettin',  if  he  didna  gae  tae  the 
verra  front  seat  afore  the  poopit. 

"  *  I  want  a  good  position,'  says  he  ;  'I'll  see 
everything  here ;'  sae  a'  left  him  an*  gied  tae 
Elspeth  Macfadyen's  seat. 

"  '  He's  anxious  tae  hear,'  she  said,  '  an*  a'm 
thinkin'  he  'ill  get  mair  than  he  expecks.  A' 
wish  it  wes  weel  ower  masel,  Hillocks ;  it  'ill  be 
an  awfu'  nicht.' 

"  Thae  Hielandmen  dinna  pit  aff  time  wi'  the 
preleeminaries,  but  they  were  lang  eneuch  tae 


THE  COLLAPSE  OF  MRS.  MACFADYEN  221 

let  onybody  see  what  kin*  o'  man  Mactavish 
wes. 

"A  gruesome  carle,  neeburs,  wi'  his  hair 
hangin'  roond  his  face  like  a  warlock  and  his 
een  blazin'  oot  o'  his  head  like  fire ;  the  sicht  o* 
him  is  sure  tae  sober  Hopps,  thinks  I. 

"  But  no,  there's  some  fouk  'ill  tak  nae  warn- 
in'  ;  there  he  was,  sittin'  in  front  o'  Mactavish 
with  his  thumbs  in  his  airm  holes,  and  a  watch 
gaird  spread  richt  across  him,  and  ae  leg  cocked 
over  the  ither,  the  verra  eemage  of  a  bantam 
cock  fleein'  in  the  face  o'  judgment." 

Drumtochty  had  never  moved  during  this 
history,  and  now  they  drew  closer  round  Hil- 
locks, on  whom  the  mantle  of  speech  had  for 
once  descended. 

"  Mactavish  lookit  at  the  body  aince,  and  he 
lookit  again  juist  tae  gie  him  fair  notis,  and 
then  he  broke  oot  in  face  o'  the  hale  congrega- 
tion : 

"  '  There's  nothing  in  all  the  world  so  decep- 
tive as  sin,  for  outside  it's  like  a  bonnie  sum- 
mer day,  and  inside  it's  as  black  as  hell. 

"  *  Now  here  iss  this  fat  little  man  sittin'  be- 
fore me  with  his  suit  o'  blue  clothes  so  bonnie 


222  A  WISE  WOMAN 

and  dainty,  and  a  watch  guard  as  thick  as  my 
finger  on  his  wame,  smilin'  an'  smirkin',  and 
real  well  contented  with  himself,  but  if  he  wass 
opened  up  what  a  sight  it  would  be  for  men 
and  angels.  Oh  yes,  yes,  it  would  be  a  fear- 
some sicht,  and  no  man  here  would  be  able  to 
look.' 

"  A'  tell  ye,  neeburs,  ye  micht  hae  heard  a 
pin  fa'  tae  the  ground,  and  ma  heart  was 
thumping  in  ma  briest ;  a'  wudna  come  thro* 
the  like  o'  yon  again  for  half  the  pleenishin'  o' 
Hillocks." 

There  was  not  a  sound  at  the  junction  save 
the  steam  escaping  from  the  engine,  and  Hil- 
locks resumed : 

"  But  the  worst's  comin'.  Hopps  jumps  up 
and  faces  Mactavish — a'll  no  deny  there  is 
some  spunk  in  the  body. 

"  '  What  right  have  you  to  speak  like  that  to 
me  ?  do  you  know  who  I  am  ? ' 

"  He  hed  better  been  quiet,  for  he  wes  nae 
match  for  yon  Hielandman. 

"  Mactavish  glowered  at  him  for  maybe  a 
meenut  till  the  puir  cratur  fell  back  intae  his 
seat 


THE  COLLAPSE  OF  MRS.  MACFADYEN  223 

" '  Man,'  says  Mactavish,  '  I  do  not  know 
who  you  are,  and  I  do  not  know  what  you  are, 
and  I  shall  not  be  asking  who  you  are,  and  I 
am  not  caring  though  you  be  MacCallummore 
himser.  You  are  just  a  Parable,  oh  yes,  just  a 
Parable. 

" '  But  if  ye  be  convicted  of  secret  sin  ye 
may  go  out,  and  if  there  be  anybody  else 
whose  sins  have  been  laid  bare  he  may  go  out 
too,  and  if  nobody  wants  to  go  out,  then  I  will 
be  going  on  with  the  sermon,  oh  yes,  for  it  will 
not  do  to  be  spending  all  our  time  on 
Parables.* 

"  As  sure  as  a'm  stannin'  here  ye  cudna  see 
Hopps  inside  his  claithes  when  Mactavish  wes 
dune  wi'  him." 

When  the  train  started  Hillocks  received  the 
compliments  of  the  third  with  much  modesty, 
and  added  piquant  details  regarding  the  utter 
confusion  of  our  sermon  taster. 

"  '  Did  ye  follow  ? '  a'  speirit  o'  Elspeth  afore 
a*  went  tae  pit  Hopps  thegither. 

" '  Cud  a*  follow  a  bumbee  ?  *  was  the  only 
word  a*  got  frae  her ;  a*  saw  she  was  beaten  for 
aince  and  wes  rael  mad." 


«24  A   WISE   WOMAN 

"  Is't  true  Elspeth  scuffled  wi'  her  feet  at  the 
laist  head  and  gar'd  him  close  ?  " 

"  A'll  neither  deny  nor  affirm,  Drumsheugh ; 
but  there's  nae  doot  when  the  mune  began  tae 
shine  aboot  nine,  and  Mactavish  started  aff  on 
the  Devil,  somebody  scrapit  aside  me.  It  wesna 
Jeems ;  he  daurna  for  his  life ;  and  it  wesna 
me.  A'll  no  say  but  it  micht  be  Elspeth,  but 
she  wes  sair  provokit.  Aifter  haddin'  her  ain 
twenty  years  tae  be  maistered  by  a  Hieland- 
man." 

It  was  simply  a  duty  of  friendship  to  look  in 
and  express  one's  sympathy  with  Mrs.  Mac- 
fadyen  in  this  professional  disaster.  I  found 
her  quite  willing  to  go  over  the  circumstances, 
which  were  unexampled  in  her  experience,  and 
may  indeed  be  considered  a  contribution  to 
history. 

"  A*  wudna  hae  minded,"  explained  Elspeth, 
settling  down  to  narrative,  "  hoo  mony  heads 
he  gied  oot,  no  tho*  he  hed  titched  the  hun- 
dred. AVe  cause  tae  be  gratefu'  for  a  guid 
memory,  and  a've  kept  it  in  fine  fettle  wi* 
sermons.  My  wy  is  tae  place  ilka  head  at  the 
end  o'  a  shelf  and  a'  the  pints  aifter  it  in  order 


THE  COLLAPSE  OF  MRS.  MACFADYEN  225 

like  the  plates  there,"  and  Mrs.  Macfadyen 
pointed  with  honest  pride  to  her  wall  of  crock- 
ery, "  and  when  the  minister  is  at  an  illustration 
or  makin'  an  appeal  a*  aye  rin  ower  the  rack 
tae  see  that  a've  a'  the  pints  in  their  places. 
Maister  Mactavish  cud  ne'er  hae  got  the 
wheephand  o'  me  wi'  his  diveesions ;  he's  no  fit 
to  haud  the  can'le  tae  John  Peddie.  Na,  na, 
a*  wesna  feared  o'  that  when  a'  examined  yon 
man  gieing  oot  the  Psalm,  but  a'  didna  like  his 
een. 

"  *  He's  ravelled,'  a'  said  tae  masel,  '  without 
beginning  or  end ;  we  'ill  hae  a  nicht  o't,'  and 
sae  we  hed." 

I  preserved  a  sympathetic  silence  till  Mrs. 
Macfadyen  felt  herself  able  to  proceed. 

"  It's  easy  eneuch,  ye  see,  for  an  auld  hand 
tae  manage  ae  set  o'  heads  gin  they  come  tae 
ten  or  a  hundred,  but  it's  another  business 
when  a  man  hes  different  sets  in  ae  sermon. 
Noo  hoo  mony  sets  div  ye  think  that  man  hed 
afore  he  wes  dune  ?  " 

It  was  vain  for  a  mere  layman  to  cope  with 
the  possibilities  of  Mr.  Mactavish. 

"  Fower,  as  a'm  a  leevin'  woman,  and  that's 
P 


226  A  WISE  WOMAN 

no  a';  he  didna  feenish  wi*  ae  set  an*  begin  wf 
the  next,  but  if  he  didna  mix  them  a'  thegither. 
Fower  set  o*  heads  a'  in  a  tangle ;  noo  ye  hae 
some  kin*  o'  idea  o'  what  a*  hed  tae  face." 
And  Mrs.  Macfadyen  paused  that  I  might  take 
in  the  situation. 

When  I  expressed  my  conviction  that  even 
the  most  experienced  hearer  was  helpless  in 
such  circumstances,  Elspeth  rallied,  and  gave 
me  to  understand  that  she  had  saved  some 
fragments  from  the  wreckage. 

"  A'U  juist  tell  ye  the  hale  hypothic,  for  sic  a 
discoorse  ye  may  never  hear  a'  the  days  o*  yir 
life. 

"  Ye  ken  thae  Hielandmen  tak  their  texts  for 
the  maist  pairt  frae  the  Auld  Testament,  and 
this  was  it  mair  or  less,  '  The  trumpet  shall  be 
blown,  and  they  shall  come  from  Assyria 
and  the  land  o'  Egypt/  and  he  began  by  ex- 
plainin'  that  there  were  twa  classes  in  Drum- 
tochty,  those  who  were  born  and  bred  in  the 
parish,  which  were  oursels,  and  them  'at  hed  tae 
stay  here  owin'  tae  the  mysterious  dispensations 
o'  Providence,  which  wes  Lachlan  Campbell. 

"Noo   this   roosed   ma    suspicions,   for    it'a 


NAPPING   STONES 


THE  COLLAPSE  OF  MRS.  MACFADYEN  227 

against  reason  for  a  man  tae  be  dividing  intae 
classes  till  the  end  o'  his  sermon.  Tak  my 
word,  it's  no  chancy  when  a  minister  begins  at 
the  tail  o'  his  subject :  he'll  wind  a  queer  pirn 
afore  he's  dune. 

"  Weel,  he  gaed  up  and  he  gaed  doon,  and 
he  aye  said,  l  Oh  yes,  yes,'  juist  like  the  thrash- 
ing mill  at  Drumsheugh  scraiking  and  girling 
till  it's  fairly  aff,  an'  by-and-by  oot  he  comes  wi' 
his  heads. 

" '  There  are  fower  trumpets,'  says  he. 
*  First,  a  leeteral  trumpet ;  second,  a  heestori- 
cal  trumpet ;  third,  a  metaphorical  trumpet ; 
fourth,  a  speeritual  trumpet.' 

"  *  I've  got  ye,'  a'  said  tae  masel,  and  settled 
doon  to  hear  him  on  the  first  head,  for  fear  he 
micht  hae  pints ;  but  wull  ye  believe  me,  he 
barely  mentioned  leeteral  till  he  was  aff  tae 
speeritual,  and  then  back  tae  heestorical,  an'  in 
five  meenuts  he  had  the  hale  fower  trumpets 
blawing  thegither. 

"  It  wes  maist  exasperatin',  and  a'  saw  Jeems 
watchin'  me — but  that's  naethin'. 

" '  There  be  many  trumpets,'  says  he,  '  oh 
yes,    an'    it    wes  a  good    trumpet    Zaccheus 


228  A   WISE  WOMAN 

heard,'  and  afore  a'  knew  where  a'  wes  he  hed 
startit  again  wi'  fower  new  heads,  as  if  he  had 
never  said  trumpet. 

"  *  A  big  tree,'  he  cries,  *  an*  a  little  man,  oh 
yes,  an'  this  is  what  we  will  be  doin\ 

" '  First.  We  shall  go  up  the  tree  wi' 
Zaccheus. 

"  *  Second.  We  shall  sit  in  the  branches  wi' 
Zaccheus. 

" '  Third.  We  shall  come  down  from  the 
tree  wi'  Zaccheus  ;  and  if  time  permits, 

"  '  Fourth.  We  shall  be  going  home  wi'  the 
publican.'  " 

It  seemed  only  just  to  pay  a  tribute  at  this 
point  to  the  wonderful  presence  of  mind  Mrs. 
Macfadyen  had  shown  amid  unparalleled  diffi- 
culties. 

"  Hoot  awa,"  she  responded ;  the  meenut 
ony  heads  cam  a'  knew  ma  grund  :  but  the 
times  atween  I  wes  fairly  lost. 

"  A'll  no  deny,"  and  our  critic  turned  aside 
to  general  reflections,  "  that  Mactavish  said 
mony  bonnie  and  affeckin'  things  frae  time  tae 
time,  like  the  glimpses  o'  the  hills  ye  get  when 
the  mist  rolls  awa,  and  he  cam  nearer  the  hert 


THE  COLLAPSE  OF  MRS.  MACFADYEN  229 

than  the  feck  o*  oor  preachers  ;  but  certes  yon 
confusion  is  mair  than  us  low  country  fouk  cud 
stand. 

"  Juist  when  he  wes  speakin*  aboot  Zaccheus 
as  nice  as  ye  please — though  whether  he  was 
up  the  tree  or  doon  the  tree  a'  cudna  for  the 
life  o'  me  tell — he  stops  sudden  and  looks  at 
us  ower  the  top  o'  his  spectacles,  which  is  ter- 
rible impressive,  and  near  dis  instead  o'  speakin.' 

"We  will  now  come  to  the  third  head  of 
this  discoorse. 

"  '  The  trumpet  shall  be  blown,  for,'  says  he, 
in  a  kin*  o'  whisper,  *  there's  a  hint  o'  oppeesi- 
tion  here/  an'  a'  tell  ye  honestly  a'  lost  hert 
a'thegither,  for  here  he  wes  back  again  amang 
the  trumpets,  and  a'll  gie  ma  aith  he  never  sae 
much  as  mentioned  that  head  afore. 

"  It's  an  awfu'  peety  that  some  men  dinna 
ken  when  tae  stop ;  they  micht  see  frae  the 
poopit ;  if  a'  saw  the  tears  comin'  tae  the 
women's  een,  or  the  men  glowering  like  wild 
cats  for  fear  they  sud  brak  doon,  a'd  say  Amen 
as  quick  as  Pittendreigh  aifter  his  goat. 

"  What  possessed  Maister  Dugald,  as  Lach- 
lan   ca'd   him,  a'd  dinna   ken,  but  aboot  half 


23o  A  WISE  WOMAN 

nine — an'  he  begood  at  six — he  sat  oot  upon 
the  trumpets  again,  an'  when  he  cudna  get  a 
haud  o'  them,  he  says: 

"  ■  It  will  be  getting  dark'  (the  mune  was 
fairly  oot),  '  an'  it  is  time  we  were  considering 
our  last  head. 

"  '  We  will  now  study  Satan  in  all  his  offices 
and  characteristics.'  " 

"  A'  see  they've  been  telling  ye  what  hap- 
pened," and  confusion  covered  Mrs.  Mac- 
fadyen's  ingenuous  countenance. 

"  Weel,  as  sure's  deith  a'  cudna  help  it,  tae 
be  sittin'  on  peens  for  mair  than  twa  oors  try- 
in'  tae  get  a  grup  o'  a  man's  heads,  an'  him  tae 
play  hide-and-seek  wi'  ye,  an'  then  tae  begin 
on  Satan  at  nine  o'clock  is  mair  nor  flesh  and 
bluid  cud  endure. 

"  A'  acknowledge  a'  scrapit,  but  a*  houp  tae 
gudeness  a'll  never  be  tempted  like  yon  again, 

"It's  a  judgment  on  me  for  ma  pride,  an' 
Jeems  said  that  tae  me,  for  a'  boastit  a'  cudna 
be  beat,  but  anither  oor  o'  Mactavish  wud  hae 
driven  me  dottle  (silly)." 

Then  I  understood  that  Mrs.  Macfadyen 
had  been  humbled  in  the  dust. 


A    DOCTOR    OF    THE    OLD 
SCHOOL 


A  GENERAL   PRACTITIONER 

Drumtochty  was  accustomed  to  break  every 
law  of  health,  except  wholesome  food  and 
fresh  air,  and  yet  had  reduced  the  Psalmist's 
farthest  limit  to  an  average  life-rate.  Our  men 
made  no  difference  in  their  clothes  for  summer 
or  winter,  Drumsheugh  and  one  or  two  of  the 
larger  farmers  condescending  to  a  topcoat  on 
Sabbath,  as  a  penalty  of  their  position,  and 
without  regard  to  temperature.  They  wore 
their  blacks  at  a  funeral,  refusing  to  cover 
them  with  anything,  out  of  respect  to  the 
deceased,  and  standing  longest  in  the  kirkyard 
when  the  north  wind  was  blowing  across  a 
hundred  miles  of  snow.  If  the  rain  was  pour- 
ing at  the  Junction,  then  Drumtochty  stood 
two  minutes  longer  through  sheer  native  dour- 
ness  till  each  man  had  a  cascade  from  the  tail 


234  A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

of  his  coat,  and  hazarded  the  suggestion,  half- 
way to  Kildrummie,  that  it  had  been  "  a  bit 
scrowie,"  a  "  scrowie"  being  as  far  short  of  a 
"  shoor"  as  a  "  shoor"  fell  below  "  weet." 

This  sustained  defiance  of  the  elements  pro- 
voked occasional  judgments  in  the  shape  of  a 
11  hoast"  (cough),  and  the  head  of  the  house  was 
then  exhorted  by  his  women  folk  to  "  change 
his  feet"  if  he  had  happened  to  walk  through  a 
burn  on  his  way  home,  and  was  pestered 
generally  with  sanitary  precautions.  It  is  right 
to  add  that  the  gudeman  treated  such  advice 
with  contempt,  regarding  it  as  suitable  for  the 
effeminacy  of  towns,  but  not  seriously  intend- 
ed for  Drumtochty.  Sandy  Stewart  "  napped" 
stones  on  the  road  in  his  shirt  sleeves,  wet  or 
fair,  summer  and  winter,  till  he  was  persuaded 
to  retire  from  active  duty  at  eighty-five,  and  he 
spent  ten  years  more  in  regetting  his  hastiness 
and  criticising  his  successor.  The  ordinary 
course  of  life,  with  fine  air  and  contented 
minds,  was  to  do  a  full  share  of  work  till  seven- 
ty, and  then  to  look  after  "  orra"  jobs  well  into 
the  eighties,  and  to  "  slip  awa"  within  sight  of 
ninety.     Persons  above  ninety  were  understood 


A  GENERAL   PRACTITIONER       235 

to  be  acquitting  themselves  with  credit,  and 
assumed  airs  of  authority,  brushing  aside  the 
opinions  of  seventy  as  immature,  and  confirm- 
ing their  conclusions  with  illustrations  drawn 
from  the  end  of  last  century. 

When  Hillocks'  brother  so  far  forgot  himself 
as  to  "  slip  awa"  at  sixty,  that  worthy  man  was 
scandalized,  and  offered  laboured  explanations 
at  the  "beerial." 

"  It's  an  awfu'  business  ony  wy  ye  look  at  it, 
an'  a  sair  trial  tae  us  a'.  A'  never  heard  tell  o' 
sic  a  thing  in  oor  family  afore,  an'  it's  no  easy 
accoontin'  for't. 

"  The  gudewife  was  savin'  he  wes  never  the 
same  sin'  a  weet  nicht  he  lost  himsel  on  the 
muir  and  slept  below  a  bush  ;  but  that's  neither 
here  nor  there.  A'm  thinkin'  he  sappit  his  con- 
stitution thae  twa  years  he  wes  grieve  aboot 
England.  That  wes  thirty  years  syne,  but  ye're 
never  the  same  aifter  thae  foreign  climates." 

Drumtochty  listened  patiently  to  Hillocks' 
apologia,  but  was  not  satisfied. 

"  It's  clean  havers  aboot  the  muir.  Losh 
keep's,  we've  a'  sleepit  oot  and  never  been  a 
hair  the  waur. 


236  A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

"  A'  admit  that  England  micht  hae  dune  the 
job ;  it's  no  cannie  stravagin'  yon  wy  frae 
place  tae  place,  but  Drums  never  complained 
tae  me  as  if  he  hed  been  nippit  in  the 
Sooth." 

The  parish  had,  in  fact,  lost  confidence  in 
Drums  after  his  wayward  experiment  with  a 
potato-digging  machine,  which  turned  out  a 
lamentable  failure,  and  his  premature  depar- 
ture confirmed  our  vague  impression  of  his 
character. 

"  He's  awa  noo,"  Drumsheugh  summed  up, 
after  opinion  had  time  to  form ;  "  an'  there 
were  waur  fouk  than  Drums,  but  there's  nae 
doot  he  wes  a  wee  flichty." 

When  illness  had  the  audacity  to  attack  a 
Drumtochty  man,  it  was  described  as  a 
"  whup,"  and  was  treated  by  the  men  with  a 
fine  negligence.  Hillocks  was  sitting  in  the 
Post  Office  one  afternoon  when  I  looked  in  for 
my  letters,  and  the  right  side  of  his  face  was 
blazing  red.  His  subject  of  discourse  was  the 
prospects  of  the  turnip  "  breer,"  but  he  casual- 
ly explained  that  he  was  waiting  for  medical 
advice. 


A   GENERAL   PRACTITIONER      237 

"The  gudewife  is  keepin'  up  a  ding-dong 
frae  mornin'  till  nicht  aboot  ma  face,  and  a'm 
fair  deaved  (deafened),  so  a'm  watchin'  for 
MacLure  tae  get  a  bottle  as  he  comes  wast : 
yon's  him  noo." 

The  doctor  made  his  diagnosis  from  horse- 
back on  sight,  and  stated  the  result  with  that 
admirable  clearness  which  endeared  him  to 
Drumtochty. 

"  Confoond  ye,  Hillocks,  what  are  ye  ploiter- 
in'  aboot  here  for  in  the  weet  wi'  a  face  like  a 
boiled  beet  ?  Div  ye  no  ken  that  yeVe  a  titch 
o'  the  rose  (erysipelas),  and  ocht  tae  be  in  the 
hoose?  Gae  hame  wi'  ye  afore  a'  leave  the 
bit,  and  send  a  haflin  for  some  medicine. 
Ye  donnerd  idiot,  are  ye  ettlin  tae  follow 
Drums  afore  yir  time  ?  "  And  the  medical  at- 
tendant of  Drumtochty  continued  his  invec- 
tive till  Hillocks  started,  and  still  pursued  his 
retreating  figure  with  medical  directions  of  a 
simple  and  practical  character. 

"A'm  watchin',  an'  peety  ye  if  ye  pit  afl 
time.  Keep  yir  bed  the  mornin',  and  dinna 
show  yir  face  in  the  fields  till  a'  see  ye.  A'll 
gie  ye  a  cry  on  Monday — sic  an  auld  fule — but 


238  A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

there's  no  ane  o'  them  tae  mind  anither  in  the 
hale  pairish." 

Hillocks'  wife  informed  the  kirkyaird  that 
the  doctor  "  gied  the  gudeman  an  awfu'  clear- 
in',"  and  that  Hillocks  "  wes  keepin'  the 
hoose,"  which  meant  that  the  patient  had  tea 
breakfast,  and  at  that  time  was  wandering 
about  the  farm  buildings  in  an  easy  undress 
with  his  head  in  a  plaid. 

It  was  impossible  for  a  doctor  to  earn  even 
the  most  modest  competence  from  a  people  of 
such  scandalous  health,  and  so  MacLure  had 
annexed  neighbouring  parishes.  His  house — 
little  more  than  a  cottage — stood  on  the  road- 
side among  the  pines  towards  the  head  of  our 
Glen,  and  from  this  base  of  operations  he 
dominated  the  wild  glen  that  broke  the  wall  of 
the  Grampians  above  Drumtochty — where  the 
snows  drifts  were  twelve  feet  deep  in  winter, 
and  the  only  way  of  passage  at  times  was  the 
channel  of  the  river— and  the  moorland  district 
westwards  till  he  came  to  the  Dunleith  sphere 
of  influence,  where  there  were  four  doctors  and 
a  hydropathic.  Drumtochty  in  its  length, 
which  was  eight  miles,  and  its  breadth,  which 


A   GENERAL   PRACTITIONER      239 

was  four,  lay  in  his  hand  ;  besides  a  glen  be- 
hind, unknown  to  the  world,  which  in  the 
night  time  he  visited  at  the  risk  of  life,  for  the 
way  thereto  was  across  the  big  moor  with  its 
peat  holes  and  treacherous  bogs.  And  he 
held  the  land  eastwards  towards  Muirtown 
so  far  as  Geordie,  the  Drumtochty  post,  travel- 
led every  day,  and  could  carry  word  that  the 
doctor  was  wanted.  He  did  his  best  for  the 
need  of  every  man,  woman,  and  child  in  this 
wild,  straggling  district,  year  in,  year  out,  in 
the  snow  and  in  the  heat,  in  the  dark  and  in 
the  light,  without  rest,  and  without  holiday  for 
forty  years. 

One  horse  could  not  do  the  work  of  this 
man,  but  we  liked  best  to  see  him  on  his  old 
white  mare,  who  died  the  week  after  her  mas- 
ter, and  the  passing  of  the  two  did  our  hearts 
good.  It  was  not  that  he  rode  beautifully,  for 
he  broke  every  canon  of  art,  flying  with  his 
arms,  stooping  till  he  seemed  to  be  speaking 
into  Jess's  ears,  and  rising  in  the  saddle  beyond 
all  necessity.  But  he  could  rise  faster,  stay 
longer  in  the  saddle,  and  had  a  firmer  grip  with 
his  knees  than  any  one  I  ever  met,  and  it  was 


24o  A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

all  for  mercy's  sake.  When  the  reapers  in  har- 
vest time  saw  a  figure  whirling  past  in  a  cloud 
of  dust,  or  the  family  at  the  foot  of  Glen 
Urtach,  gathered  round  the  fire  on  a  winter's 
night,  heard  the  rattle  of  a  horse's  hoofs  on 
the  road,  or  the  shepherds,  out  after  the  sheep, 
traced  a  black  speck  moving  across  the  snow  to 
the  upper  glen,  they  knew  it  was  the  doctor, 
and,  without  being  conscious  of  it,  wished  him 
God  speed. 

Before  and  behind  his  saddle  were  strapped 
the  instruments  and  medicines  the  doctor 
might  want,  for  he  never  knew  what  was  be- 
fore him.  There  were  no  specialists  in  Drum- 
tochty,  so  this  man  had  to  do  everything  as 
best  he  could,  and  as  quickly.  He  was  chest 
doctor  and  doctor  for  every  other  organ  as 
well ;  he  was  accoucheur  and  surgeon  ;  he  was 
oculist  and  aurist ;  he  was  dentist  and  chloro- 
formist,  besides  being  chemist  and  druggist. 
It  was  often  told  how  he  was  far  up  Glen 
Urtach  when  the  feeders  of  the  threshing  mill 
caught  young  Burnbrae,  and  how  he  only 
stopped  to  change  horses  at  his  house,  and  gal- 
loped all  the  way  to  Burnbrae,  and  flung  him- 


A   GENERAL   PRACTITIONER      241 

self  off  his  horse  and  amputated  the  arm,  and 
saved  the  lad's  life. 

"  You  wud  hae  thocht  that  every  meenut 
was  an  hour,"  said  Jamie  Soutar,  who  had  been 
at  the  threshing,  "  an'  a'll  never  forget  the  puir 
lad  lying  as  white  as  deith  on  the  floor  o'  the 
loft,  wi'  his  head  on  a  sheaf,  an'  Burnbrae 
haudin'  the  bandage  ticht  an'  prayin'  a'  the 
while,  and  the  mither  greetin'  in  the  corner. 

"  *  Will  he  never  come  ? '  she  cries,  an'  a' 
heard  the  soond  o'  the  horse's  feet  on  the  road 
a  mile  awa  in  the  frosty  air. 

"  '  The  Lord  be  praised !'  said  Burnbrae,  and 
a'  slippit  doon  the  ladder  as  the  doctor  came 
skelpin'  intae  the  close,  the  foam  fleein'  frae  his 
horse's  mooth. 

"  '  Whar  is  he  ? '  wes  a'  that  passed  his  lips, 
an*  in  five  meenuts  he  hed  him  on  the  feedin' 
board,  and  wes  at  his  wark — sic  wark,  neeburs 
— but  he  did  it  weel.  An'  ae  thing  a'  thocht 
rael  thochtfu'  o'  him  :  he  first  sent  aff  the  lad- 
die's mither  tae  get  a  bed  ready. 

"  *  Noo  that's  feenished,  and  his  constitution 
'ill  dae  the  rest,'  and  he  carried  the  lad  doon 
the  ladder  in  his  airms  like  a  bairn,  and  laid 
Q 


24*  A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

him  in  his  bed,  and  waits  aside  him  till  he  wes 
sleepin',  and  then  says  he :  '  Burnbrae,  yir  a 
gey  lad  never  tae  say  "  Collie,  will  ye  lick  ?"  for 
a*  hevna  tasted  meat  for  saxteen  hoors.' 

"  It  was  michty  tae  see  him  come  intae  the 
yaird  that  day,  neeburs  ;  the  verra  look  o'  him 
wes  victory." 

Jamie's  cynicism  slipped  off  in  the  enthusi- 
asm of  this  reminiscence,  and  he  expressed  the 
feeling  of  Drumtochty.  No  one  sent  for  Mac- 
Lure  save  in  great  straits,  and  the  sight  of  him 
put  courage  in  sinking  hearts.  But  this  was 
not  by  the  grace  of  his  appearance,  or  the  ad- 
vantage of  a  good  bedside  manner.  A  tall, 
gaunt,  loosely  made  man,  without  an  ounce  of 
superfluous  flesh  on  his  body,  his  face  burned 
a  dark  brick  colour  by  constant  exposure  to  the 
weather,  red  hair  and  beard  turning  grey,  hon- 
est blue  eyes  that  look  you  ever  in  the  face, 
huge  hands  with  wrist  bones  like  the  shank  of 
a  ham,  and  a  voice  that  hurled  his  salutations 
across  two  fields,  he  suggested  the  moor  rather 
than  the  drawing-room.  But  what  a  clever 
hand  it  was  in  an  operation,  as  delicate  as  a 
woman's,  and  what  a  kindly  voice  it  was  in  the 


A  GENERAL   PRACTITIONER       243 

humble  room  where  the  shepherd's  wife  was 
weeping  by  her  man's  bedside.  He  was  "  ill 
pitten  thegither "  to  begin  with,  but  many  of 
his  physical  defects  were  the  penalties  of  his 
work,  and  endeared  him  to  the  Glen.  That 
ugly  scar  that  cut  into  his  right  eyebrow  and 
gave  him  such  a  sinister  expression,  was  got 
one  night  Jess  slipped  on  the  ice  and  laid  him 
insensible  eight  miles  from  home.  His  limp 
marked  the  big  snowstorm  in  the  fifties,  when 
his  horse  missed  the  road  in  Glen  Urtach,  and 
they  rolled  together  in  a  drift.  MacLure 
escaped  with  a  broken  leg  and  the  fracture  of 
three  ribs,  but  he  never  walked  like  other  men 
again.  He  could  not  swing  himself  into  the 
saddle  without  making  two  attempts  and  hold- 
ing Jess's  mane.  Neither  can  you  "  warstle  " 
through  the  peat  bogs  and  snow  drifts  for  forty 
winters  without  a  touch  of  rheumatism.  But 
they  were  honourable  scars,  and  for  such  risks 
of  life  men  get  the  Victoria  Cross  in  other 
fields.  MacLure  got  nothing  but  the  secret  af- 
fection of  the  Glen,  which  knew  that  none  had 
ever  done  one-tenth  as  much  for  it  as  this  un- 
gainly,   twisted,  battered    figure,    and  I    have 


244  A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

seen  a  Drumtochty  face  soften  at  the  sight  of 
MacLure  limping  to  his  horse. 

Mr.  Hopps  earned  the  ill-will  of  the  Glen  for 
ever  by  criticising  the  doctor's  dress,  but  indeed 
it  would  have  filled  any  townsman  with  amaze- 
ment. Black  he  wore  once  a  year,  on  Sacra- 
ment Sunday,  and,  if  possible,  at  a  funeral ; 
topcoat  or  waterproof  never.  His  jacket  and 
waistcoat  were  rough  homespun  of  Glen  Urtach 
wool,  which  threw  off  the  wet  like  a  duck's 
back,  and  below  he  was  clad  in  shepherd's  tar- 
tan trousers,  which  disappeared  into  unpolished 
riding  boots.  His  shirt  was  grey  flannel,  and 
he  was  uncertain  about  a  collar,  but  certain  as 
to  a  tie  which  he  never  had,  his  beard  doing 
instead,  and  his  hat  was  soft  felt  of  four  colours 
and  seven  different  shapes.  His  point  of  dis- 
tinction in  dress  was  the  trousers,  and  they 
were  the  subject  of  unending  speculation. 

"  Some  threep  that  he's  worn  thae  eedentical 
pair  the  last  twenty  year,  an*  a'  mind  masel 
him  gettin'  a  tear  ahint,  when  he  was  crossin' 
oor  palin\  and  the  mend's  still  veesible. 

"  Ithers  declare  'at  he's  got  a  wab  o'  claith, 
and  hes  a  new  pair  made  in  Muirtown  aince  in 


MACLURE   TAKS   OOT   THE   BIT   BOTTLES 


A   GENERAL   PRACTITIONER        245 

the  twa  year  maybe,  and  keeps  them  in  the 
garden  till  the  new  look  wears  aff. 

"  For  ma  ain  pairt,"  Soutar  used  to  declare, 
"  a'  canna  mak  up  my  mind,  but  there's  ae 
thing  sure,  the  Glen  wud  not  like  tae  see  him 
withoot  them :  it  wud  be  a  shock  tae  con- 
fidence. There's  no  muckle  o*  the  check  left, 
but  ye  can  aye  tell  it,  and  when  ye  see  thae 
breeks  comin'  in  ye  ken  that  if  human  pooer 
can  save  yir  bairn's  life  it  'ill  be  dune." 

The  confidence  of  the  Glen — and  tributary 
states — was  unbounded,  and  rested  partly  on 
long  experience  of  the  doctor's  resources,  and 
partly  on  his  hereditary  connection. 

"  His  father  was  here  afore  him,"  Mrs.  Mac- 
fadyen  used  to  explain  ;  "  atween  them  they've 
hed  the  countyside  for  weel  on  tae  a  century ; 
if  MacLure  disna  understand  oor  constitution, 
wha  dis,  a'  wud  like  tae  ask  ?" 

For  Drumtochty  had  its  own  constitution 
and  a  special  throat  disease,  as  became  a  parish 
which  was  quite  self-contained  between  the 
woods  and  the  hills,  and  not  dependent  on  the 
lowlands  either  for  its  diseases  or  its  doctors. 

•  He's  a  skilly  man,  Doctor  MacLure,"  con- 


246  A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

tinued  my  friend  Mrs.  Macfadyen,  whose  judg- 
ment on  sermons  or  anything  else  was  seldom 
at  fault ;  "  an'  a  kind-hearted,  though  o'  coorse 
he  hes  his  faults  like  us  a*,  an*  he  disna  tribble 
the  Kirk  often. 

"He  aye  can  tell  what's  wrang  wi'  a  body, 
an*  maistly  he  can  put  ye  richt,  and  there's  nae 
new-fangled  wys  wi'  him  :  a  blister  for  the  oot- 
side  an*  Epsom  salts  for  the  inside  dis  his  wark, 
an'  they  say  there's  no  an  herb  on  the  hills  he 
disna  ken. 

"  If  we're  tae  dee,  we're  tae  dee ;  an'  if 
we're  tae  live,  we're  tae  live,"  concluded  Elspeth, 
with  sound  Calvinistic  logic ;  "  but  a'll  say  this 
for  the  doctor,  that  whether  yir  tae  live  or  dee, 
he  can  aye  keep  up  a  shairp  meisture  on  the 
skin. 

"  But  he's  no  verra  ceevil  gin  ye  bring  him 
when  there's  naethin'  wrang,"  and  Mrs.  Mac- 
fadyen's  face  reflected  another  of  Mr.  Hopps' 
misadventures  of  which  Hillocks  held  the  copy- 
right. 

"  Hopps'  laddie  ate  grosarts  (gooseberries) 
till  they  hed  to  sit  up  a'  nicht  wi'  him,  an' 
naethin'  wud  do  but  they  maun  hae  the  doctor. 


A   GENERAL  PRACTITIONER        247 

an'  he  writes  *  immediately '  on  a  slip  o' 
paper. 

"  Weel,  MacLure  had  been  awa  a*  nicht  wi' 
a  shepherd's  wife  Dunleith  wy,  and  he  comes 
here  withoot  drawin'  bridle,  mud  up  tae  the 
een. 

"  '  What's  a  dae  here,  Hillocks  ?"  he  cries ; 
1  it's  no  an  accident,  is't  ? '  and  when  he  got  aff 
his  horse  he  cud  hardly  stand  wi'  stiffness  and 
tire. 

" '  It's  nane  o'  us,  doctor ;  it's  Hopps'  lad- 
die ;  he's  been  eatin'  ower  mony  berries.' 

"  If  he  didna  turn  on  me  like  a  tiger. 

"  '  Div  ye  mean  tae  say ' 

u  *  Weesht,  weesht,'  an'  I  tried  tae  quiet  him, 
for  Hopps  wes  comin'  oot. 

"  '  Well,  doctor,'  begins  he,  as  brisk  as  a  mag- 
pie, '  you're  here  at  last ;  there's  no  hurry  with 
you  Scotchmen.  My  boy  has  been  sick  all 
night,  and  I've  never  had  one  wink  of  sleep. 
You  might  have  come  a  little  quicker,  that's 
all  I've  got  to  say.' 

"  '  We've  mair  tae  dae  in  Drumtochty  than 
attend  tae  every  bairn  that  hes  a  sair  stomach/ 
and  a'  saw  MacLure  wes  roosed. 


248  A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

" '  I'm  astonished  to  hear  you  speak.  Our 
doctor  at  home  always  says  to  Mrs.  'Opps, 
"  Look  on  me  as  a  family  friend,  Mrs.  'Opps, 
and  send  for  me  though  it  be  only  a  head- 
ache." ' 

"  '  He'd  be  mair  sparin'  o'  his  offers  if  he  hed 
four  and  twenty  mile  tae  look  aifter.  There's 
naethin'  wrang  wi'  yir  laddie  but  greed.  Gie 
him  a  gude  dose  o'  castor  oil  and  stop  his 
meat  for  a  day,  an'  he  'ill  be  a'  richt  the 
morn.' 

" '  He  'ill  not  take  castor  oil,  doctor.  We 
have  given  up  those  barbarous  medicines.' 

"  '  Whatna  kind  o'  medicines  hae  ye  noo  in 
the  Sooth?' 

"  *  Well,  you  see,  Dr.  MacLure,  we're  homoe- 
opathists,  and  I've  my  little  chest  here,  'and  oot 
Hopps  comes  wi'  his  boxy. 

"  '  Let's  see't,'  an'  MacLure  sits  doon  and 
taks  oot  the  bit  bottles,  and  he  reads  the  names 
wi'  a  lauch  every  time. 

"  '  Belladonna  ;  did  ye  ever  hear  the  like  ? 
Aconite ;  it  cowes  a'.  Nux  Vomica.  What 
next  ?  Weel,  ma  mannie,'  he  says  tae  Hopps, 
'it's  a  fine  ploy,  and  ye  'ill  better  gang  on  wi' 


A   GENERAL   PRACTITIONER       249 

the  Nux  till  it's  dune,  and  gie  him  ony  ither  o' 
the  sweeties  he  fancies. 

"  *  Noo,  Hillocks,  a*  maun  be  aff  tae  see 
Drumsheugh's  grieve,  for  he's  doon  wi'  the 
fever,  and  it's  tae  be  a  teuch  fecht.  A'  hinna 
time  tae  wait  for  dinner ;  gie  me  some  cheese 
an'  cake  in  ma  haund,  and  Jess  'ill  tak  a  pail  o* 
meal  an'  water. 

11 '  Fee ;  a'm  no  wantin'  yir  fees,  man  ;  wi'  that 
boxy  ye  dinna  need  a  doctor ;  na,  na,  gie  yir 
siller  tae  some  puir  body,  Maister  Hopps,'  an' 
he  was  doon  the  road  as  hard  as  he  cud  lick." 

His  fees  were  pretty  much  what  the  folk 
chose  to  give  him,  and  he  collected  them  once 
a  year  at  Kildrummie  fair. 

"  Weel,  doctor,  what  am  a'  awin'  ye  for  the 
wife  and  bairn  ?  Ye  'ill  need  three  notes  for 
that  nicht  ye  stayed  in  the  hoose  an'  a'  the 
veesits." 

M  Havers,"  MacLure  would  answer,  "  prices 
are  low,  a'm  hearing ;  gie's  thirty  shillings." 

"  No,  a'll  no,  or  the  wife  'ill  tak  ma  ears  off," 
and  it  was  settled  for  two  pounds. 

Lord  Kilspindie  gave  him  a  free  house  and 
fields,  and  one  way  or  other,  Drumsheugh  told 


250  A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

me,  the  doctor  might  get  in  about  £150  a  year, 
out  of  which  he  had  to  pay  his  old  housekeep- 
er's wages  and  a  boy's,  and  keep  two  horses, 
besides  the  cost  'of  instruments  and  books, 
which  he  bought  through  a  friend  in  Edinburgh 
with  much  judgment. 

There  was  only  one  man  who  ever  complained 
of  the  doctor's  charges,  and  that  was  the  new 
farmer  of  Milton,  who  was  so  good  that  he  was 
above  both  churches,  and  held  a  meeting  in  his 
barn.  (It  was  Milton  the  Glen  supposed  at  first 
to  be  a  Mormon,  but  I  can't  go  into  that  now.) 
He  offered  McLure  a  pound  less  than  he  asked, 
and  two  tracts,  whereupon  MacLure  expressed 
his  opinion  of  Milton,  both  from  a  theological 
and  social  standpoint,  with  such  vigour  and 
frankness  that  an  attentive  audience  of  Drum- 
tochty  men  could  hardly  contain  themselves. 

Jamie  Soutar  was  selling  his  pig  at  the  time, 
and  missed  the  meeting,  but  he  hastened  to 
condole  with  Milton,  who  was  complaining 
everywhere  of  the  doctor's  language. 

"  Ye  did  richt  tae  resist  him  ;  it  'ill  maybe 
roose  the  Glen  tae  mak  a  stand ;  he  fair  hauds 
them  in  bondage. 


A    GENERAL   PRACTITIONER     251 

H  Thirty  shillings  for  twal  veesits,  and  him  no 
mair  than  seeven  mile  awa,  an'  a'm  telt  there 
werena  mair  than  four  at  nicht. 

"  Ye  'ill  hae  the  sympathy  o'  the  Glen,  for 
a'  body  kens  yir  as  free  wi'  yir  siller  as  yir  tracts. 

"  Wes't  ■  Beware  o'  gude  warks'  ye  offered 
him?  Man,  ye  chose  it  weel,  for  he's  been 
colleckin'  sae  mony  thae  forty  years,  a'm  feared 
for  him. 

11  A've  often  thocht  oor  doctor's  little  better 
than  the  Gude  Samaritan,  an'  the  Pharisees 
didna  think  muckle  o'  his  chance  aither  in  this 
warld  or  that  which  is  tae  come." 


II 

THROUGH   THE   FLOOD 

Doctor  MacLure  did  not  lead  a  solemn  pro- 
cession from  the  sick  bed  to  the  dining-room, 
and  give  his  opinion  from  the  hearthrug  with 
an  air  of  wisdom  bordering  on  the  supernatural, 
because  neither  the  Drumtochty  houses  nor  his 
manners  were  on  that  large  scale.  He  was  accus- 
tomed to  deliver  himself  in  the  yard,  and  to 
conclude  his  directions  with  one  foot  in  the 
stirrup ;  but  when  he  left  the  room  where  the 
life  of  Annie  Mitchell  was  ebbing  slowly  away, 
our  doctor  said  not  one  word,  and  at  the  sight 
of  his  face  her  husband's  heart  was  troubled. 

He  was  a  dull  man,  Tammas,  who  could  not 
read  the  meaning  of  a  sign,  and  laboured  under 
a  perpetual  disability  of  speech ;  but  love  was 
eyes  to  him  that  day,  and  a  mouth. 

"  Is't  as  bad  as  yir  looking  doctor?  tell's  the 


ANNIE   COMIN     TAE   MEET   ME 


THROUGH   THE   FLOOD  253 

truth;  wull  Annie  no  come  through?"  and 
Tammas  looked  MacLure  straight  in  the  face, 
who  never  flinched  his  duty  or  said  smooth 
things. 

"  A'  wud  gie  onything  tae  say  Annie  hes  a 
chance,  but  a'  daurna ;  a'  doot  yir  gaein'  tae 
lose  her,  Tammas." 

MacLure  was  in  the  saddle,  and  as  he  gave 
his  judgment,  he  laid  his  hand  on  Tammas's 
shoulder  with  one  of  the  rare  caresses  that 
pass  between  men. 

"  It's  a  sair  business,  but  ye  'ill  play  the  man 
and  no  vex  Annie ;  she  'ill  dae  her  best,  a'll 
warrant." 

"An'  a'll  dae  mine,"  and  Tammas  gave 
MacLure's  hand  a  grip  that  would  have  crushed 
the  bones  of  a  weakling.  Drumtochty  felt  in 
such  moments  the  brotherliness  of  this  rough- 
looking  man,  and  loved  him. 

Tammas  hid  his  face  in  Jess's  mane,  who 
looked  round  with  sorrow  in  her  beautiful  eyes, 
for  she  had  seen  many  tragedies,  and  in  this 
silent  sympathy  the  stricken  man  drank  his 
cup,  drop  by  drop. 

"  A'  wesna  prepared  for  this,  for  a'  aye  thocht 


254  A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

she  wud  live  the  langest.  .  .  .  She's  younger 
than  me  by  ten  years,  and  never  wes  ill.  .  .  . 
We've  been  mairit  twal  year  laist  Martinmas, 
but  its  juist  like  a  year  the  day.  ...  A'  wes 
never  worthy  o'  her,  the  bonniest,  snoddest 
(neatest),  kindliest  lass  in  the  Glen.  ...  A' 
never  cud  mak  oot  hoo  she  ever  lookit  at  me, 
'at  hesna  hed  ae  word  tae  say  aboot  her  till  it's 
ower  late.  .  .  .  She  didna  cuist  up  tae  me  that 
a'  wesna  worthy  o'  her,  no  her,  but  aye  she 
said,  ■  Yir  ma  ain  gudeman,  and  nane  cud  be 
kinder  tae  me.'  .  .  .  An'  a'  wes  minded  tae  be 
kind,  but  a'  see  noo  mony  little  trokes  a'  micht 
hae  dune  for  her,  and  noo  the  time  is  bye.  .  .  . 
Naebody  kens  hoo  patient  she  wes  wi'  me,  and 
aye  made  the  best  o'  me,  an'  never  pit  me  tae 
shame  afore  the  fouk.  .  .  .  An'  we  never  hed 
ae  cross  word,  no  ane  in  twal  year.  .  .  .  We 
were  mair  nor  man  and  wife,  we  were  sweet- 
hearts a'  the  time.  .  .  .  Oh,  ma  bonnie  lass, 
what  'ill  the  bairnies  an'  me  dae  withoot  ye, 
Annie  ?" 

The  winter  night  was  falling  fast,  the  snow 
lay  deep  upon  the  ground,  and  the  merciless 
north  wind  moaned  through  the  close  as  Tam- 


THROUGH   THE   FLOOD  255 

mas  wrestled  with  his  sorrow  dry-eyed,  for 
tears  were  denied  Drumtochty  men.  Neither 
the  doctor  nor  Jess  moved  hand  or  foot,  but 
their  hearts  were  with  their  fellow  creature, 
and  at  length  the  doctor  made  a  sign  to  Mar- 
get  Howe,  who  had  come  out  in  search  of 
Tammas,  and  now  stood  by  his  side. 

"  Dinna  mourn  tae  the  brakin'  o'  yir  hert, 
Tammas,"  she  said,  "  as  if  Annie  an'  you  hed 
never  luved.  Neither  death  nor  time  can  pairt 
them  that  luve ;  there's  naethin'  in  a'  the 
warld  sae  strong  as  luve.  If  Annie  gaes  frae 
the  sicht  o'  yir  een  she  'ill  come  the  nearer  tae 
yir  hert.  She  wants  tae  see  ye,  and  tae  hear 
ye  say  that  ye  'ill  never  forget  her  nicht  nor 
day  till  ye  meet  in  the  land  where  there's  nae 
pairtin'.  Oh,  a'  ken  what  a'm  sayin',  for  it's 
five  year  noo  sin  George  gied  awa,  an'  he's 
mair  wi'  me  noo  than  when  he  wes  in  Edin- 
boro'  and  I  wes  in  Drumtochty." 

"  Thank  ye  kindly,  Marget ;  thae  are  gude 
words  and  true,  an'  ye  hev  the  richt  tae  say 
them ;  but  a'  canna  dae  without  seein'  Annie 
comin'  tae  meet  me  in  the  gloamin',  an'  gaein' 
in  an'  oot  the  hoose,  an'  hearin'  her  ca'  me  by 


256  A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

ma  name,  an'  a'll  no  can  tell  her  that  a'  luve 
her  when  there's  nae  Annie  in  the  hoose. 

"  Can  naethin'  be  dune,  doctor  ?  Ye  savit 
Flora  Cammil,  and  young  Burnbrae,  an'  yon 
shepherd's  wife  Dunleith  wy,  an'  we  were  a 
sae  prood  o'  ye,  an'  pleased  tae  think  that  ye 
hed  keepit  deith  frae  anither  hame.  Can  ye 
no  think  o'  somethin'  tae  help  Annie,  and  gie 
her  back  tae  her  man  and  bairnies  ?"  and  Tarn- 
mas  searched  the  doctor's  face  in  the  cold, 
weird  light. 

"  There's  nae  pooer  in  heaven  or  airth  like 
luve,"  Marget  said  to  me  afterwards  ;  "  it  maks 
the  weak  strong  and  the  dumb  tae  speak.  Oor 
herts  were  as  water  afore  Tammas's  words,  an' 
a*  saw  the  doctor  shake  in  his  saddle.  A* 
never  kent  till  that  meenut  hoo  he  hed  a  share 
in  a'body's  grief,  an'  carried  the  heaviest  wecht 
o'  a'  the  Glen.  A'  peetied  him  wi'  Tammas 
lookin'  at  him  sae  wistfully,  as  if  he  hed  the 
keys  o'  life  an'  deith  in  his  hands.  But  he 
wes  honest,  and  wudna  hold  oot  a  false  houp 
tae  deceive  a  sore  hert  or  win  escape  for  him- 
selV 

"  Ye  needna  plead  wi*  me,  Tammas,  to  dae 


THROUGH   THE   FLOOD  257 

the  best  a'  can  for  yir  wife.  Man,  a'  kent  her 
lang  afore  ye  ever  luved  her  ;  a*  brocht  her  in- 
tae  the  warld,  and  a'  saw  her  through  the 
fever  when  she  wes  a  bit  lassikie ;  a'  closed  her 
mither's  een,  and  it  wes  me  hed  tae  tell  her  she 
wes  an  orphan,  an'  nae  man  wes  better  pleased 
when  she  got  a  gude  husband,  and  a'  helpit  her 
wi'  her  fower  bairns.  A've  naither  wife  nor 
bairns  o'  ma  own,  an'  a  coont  a'  the  fouk  o* 
the  Glen  ma  family.  Div  ye  think  a*  wudna 
save  Annie  if  I  cud  ?  If  there  wes  a  man  in 
Muirtown  'at  cud  dae  mair  for  her,  a'd  have 
him  this  verra  nicht,  but  a'  the  doctors  in 
Perthshire  are  helpless  for  this  tribble. 

"  Tammas,  ma  puir  fallow,  if  it  could  avail, 
a*  tell  ye  a*  wud  lay  doon  this  auld  worn-oot 
ruckle  o'  a  body  o'  mine  juist  tae  see  ye  baith 
sittin'  at  the  fireside,  an*  the  bairns  roond  ye, 
couthy  an*  canty  again ;  but  it's  no  tae  be, 
Tammas,  it's  no  tae  be." 

"  When  a'  lookit  at  the  doctor's  face,"  Mar- 
get  said,  "  a'  thocht  him  the  winsomest  man  a* 
ever  saw.  He  wes  transfigured  that  nicht,  for 
a'm  judging  there's  nae  transfiguration  like 
luve." 

R 


258  A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

"  It's  God's  wull  an'  maun  be  borne,  but  it's  a 
sair  wull  for  me,  an'  a'm  no  ungratefu'  tae  you, 
doctor,  for  a'  ye've  dune  and  what  ye  said  the 
nicht,"  and  Tammas  went  back  to  sit  with  An- 
nie for  the  last  time. 

Jess  picked  her  way  through  the  deep  snow 
to  the  main  road,  with  a  skill  that  came  of 
long  experience,  and  the  doctor  held  converse 
with  her  according  to  his  wont. 

"  Eh,  Jess  wumman,  yon  wes  the  hardest 
wark  a'  hae  tae  face,  and  a'  wud  raither  hae 
ta'en  ma  chance  o'  anither  row  in  a  Glen  Urtach 
drift  than  tell  Tammas  Mitchell  his  wife  wes 
deein'. 

"  A'  said  she  cudna  be  cured,  and  it  wes  true, 
for  there's  juist  ae  man  in  the  land  fit  for't,  and 
they  micht  as  weel  try  tae  get  the  mune  oot 
o'  heaven.  Sae  a'  said  naethin'  tae  vex  Tam- 
mas's  hert,  for  it's  heavy  eneuch  withoot  re- 
grets. 

"  But  it's  hard,  Jess,  that  money  wull  buy  life 
after  a',  an'  if  Annie  wes  a  duchess  her  man 
wudna  lose  her ;  but  bein'  only  a  puir  cottar's 
wife,  she  maun  dee  afore  the  week's  oot. 

"  Gin  we  hed  him   the  morn  there's  little 


THROUGH   THE   FLOOD  259 

doot  she  wud  be  saved,  for  he  hesna  lost  mair 
than  five  per  cent,  o'  his  cases,  and  they  'ill  be 
puir  toon's  craturs,  no  strappin'  women  like 
Annie. 

"  It's  oot  o'  the  question,  Jess,  sae  hurry  up, 
lass,  for  we've  hed  a  heavy  day.  But  it  wud  be 
the  grandest  thing  that  was  ever  dune  in  the 
Glen  in  oor  time  if  it  could  be  managed  by 
hook  or  crook. 

"  We  'ill  gang  and  see  Drumsheugh,  Jess ; 
he's  anither  man  sin'  Geordie  Hoo's  deith,  and 
he  wes  aye  kinder  than  fouk  kent ;"  and  the 
doctor  passed  at  a  gallop  through  the  village, 
whose  lights  shone  across  the  white  frost-bound 
road. 

"Come  in  by,  doctor;  a'  heard  ye  on  the 
road  ;  ye  'ill  hae  been  at  Tammas  Mitchell's ; 
hoo's  the  gudewife  ?  a'  doot  she's  sober." 

"  Annie's  deein',  Drumsheugh,  an'  Tammas 
is  like  tae  brak  his  hert." 

"  That's  no  lichtsome,  doctor,  no  lichtsome 
ava,  for  a'  dinna  ken  ony  man  in  Drumtochty 
sae  bund  up  in  his  wife  as  Tammas,  and  there's 
no  a  bonnier  wumman  o'  her  age  crosses  oor 
kirk  door  than   Annie,  nor  a  cleverer  at  her 


26o  A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

wark.  Man,  ye  'ill  need  tae  pit  yir  brains  in 
steep.     Is  she  clean  beyond  ye  ?  " 

"  Beyond  me  and  every  ither  in  the  land  but 
ane,  and  it  wud  cost  a  hundred  guineas  tae 
bring  him  tae  Drumtochty." 

"  Certes,  he's  no  blate  ;  it's  a  fell  chairge  for 
a  short  day's  work  ;  but  hundred  or  no  hundred 
we  'ill  hae  him,  an'  no  let  Annie  gang,  and  her 
no  half  her  years." 

"  Are  ye  meanin'  it,  Drumsheugh  ? "  and 
MacLure  turned  white  below  the  tan. 

"  William  MacLure,"  said  Drumsheugh,  in 
one  of  the  few  confidences  that  ever  broke  the 
Drumtochty  reserve,  "a'm  a  lonely  man,  wi' 
naebody  o'  ma  ain  blude  tae  care  for  me 
livin',  or  tae  lift  me  intae  ma  coffin  when  a'm 
deid. 

"  A'  fecht  awa  at  Muirtown  market  for  an 
extra  pund  on  a  beast,  or  a  shillin'  on  the 
quarter  o'  barley,  an'  what's  the  gude  o't  ? 
Burn  brae  gaes  aff  tae  get  a  goon  for  his  wife 
or  a  buke  for  his  college  laddie,  an'  Lachlan 
Campbell  'ill  no  leave  the  place  noo  withoot  a 
ribbon  for  Flora. 

"  Ilka  man  in  the  Kildrummie  train  has  some 


THROUGH   THE   FLOOD  261 

bit  fairm'  in  his  pooch  for  the  fouk  at  hame 
that  he's  bocht  wi'  the  siller  he  won. 

"  But  there's  naebody  tae  be  lookin'  oot  for 
me,  an'  comin'  doon  the  road  tae  meet  me,  and 
daffin'  (joking)  wi'  me  aboot  their  fairing,  or 
feeling  ma  pockets.  Ou  ay,  a've  seen  it  a'  at 
ither  hooses,  though  they  tried  tae  hide  it  frae 
me  for  fear  a'  wud  lauch  at  them.  Me  lauch, 
wi'  ma  cauld,  empty  hame ! 

"Yir  the  only  man  kens,  Weelum,  that  I 
aince  luved  the  noblest  wumman  in  the  glen  or 
onywhere,  an'  a'  luve  her  still,  but  wi'  anither 
luve  noo. 

"  She  hed  given  her  heart  tae  anither,  or  a've 
thocht  a'  micht  hae  won  her,  though  nae  man 
be  worthy  o'  sic  a  gift.  Ma  hert  turned  tae 
bitterness,  but  that  passed  awa  beside  the  brier 
bush  whar  George  Hoo  lay  yon  sad  simmer 
time.  Some  day  a'll  tell  ye  ma  story,  Weelum, 
for  you  an'  me  are  auld  freends,  and  will  be  till 
we  dee." 

MacLure  felt  beneath  the  table  for  Drum- 
sheugh's  hand,  but  neither  man  looked  at  the 
other. 

"  Weel,  a'  we  can  dae  noo,  Weelum,  gin  we 


262  A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

haena  mickle  brichtness  in  oor  ain  names,  is 
tae  keep  the  licht  frae  gaein'  oot  in  anither 
hoose.  Write  the  telegram,  man,  and  Sandy 
111  send  it  aff  frae  Kildrummie  this  verra 
nicht,  and  ye  'ill  hae  yir  man  the  morn." 

"Yir  the  man  a'  coonted  ye,  Drumsheugh, 
but  ye  'ill  grant  me  ae  favour.  Ye  'ill  lat  me 
pay  the  half,  bit  by  bit — a'  ken  yir  wullin'  tae 
dae't  a', — but  a'  haena  mony  pleesures,  an'  a' 
wud  like  tae  hae  ma  ain  share  in  savin'  Annie's 
life." 

Next  morning  a  figure  received  Sir  George 
on  the  Kildrummie  platform,  whom  that  fa- 
mous surgeon  took  for  a  gillie,  but  who  intro- 
duced himself  as  "  MacLure  of  Drumtochty." 
It  seemed  as  if  the  East  had  come  to  meet  the 
West  when  these  two  stood  together,  the  one 
in  travelling  furs,  handsome  and  distinguished, 
with  his  strong,  cultured  face  and  carriage  of 
authority,  a  characteristic  type  of  his  profes- 
sion ;  and  the  other  more  marvellously  dressed 
than  ever,  for  Drumsheugh's  topcoat  had  been 
forced  upon  him  for  the  occasion,  his  face  and 
neck  one  redness  with  the  bitter  cold  ;  rough 
and  ungainly,  yet  not  without  some  signs  of 


THROUGH   THE   FLOOD  263 

power  in  his  eye  and  voice,  the  most  heroic 
type  of  his  noble  profession.  MacLure  com- 
passed the  precious  arrival  with  observances  till 
he  was  securely  seated  in  Drumsheugh's  dog- 
cart— a  vehicle  that  lent  itself  to  history — with 
two  full-sized  plaids  added  to  his  equipment — 
Drumsheugh  and  Hillocks  had  both  been  req- 
uisitioned— and  MacLure  wrapped  another 
plaid  round  a  leather  case,  which  was  placed 
below  the  seat  with  such  reverence  as  might  be 
given  to  the  Queen's  regalia.  Peter  attended 
their  departure  full  of  interest,  and  as  soon  as 
they  were  in  the  fir  woods  MacLure  explained 
that  it  would  be  an  eventful  journey. 

"  It's  a'  richt  in  here,  for  the  wind  disna  get 
at  the  snaw,  but  the  drifts  are  deep  in  the  Glen, 
and  th'ill  be  some  engineerin'  afore  we  get  tae 
oor  destination." 

Four  times  they  left  the  road  and  took  their 
way  over  fields,  twice  they  forced  a  passage 
through  a  slap  in  a  dyke,  thrice  they  used  gaps 
in  the  paling  which  MacLure  had  made  on  his 
downward  journey. 

"  A'  seleckit  the  road  this  mornin',  an'  a'  ken 
the  depth  tae  an  inch ;  we  'ill  get  through  this 


264  A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

steadin'  here  tae  the  main  road,  but  oor  worst 
job  'ill  be  crossin'  the  Tochty. 

"  Ye  see  the  bridge  hes  been  shakin'  wi'  this 
winter's  flood,  and  we  daurna  venture  on  it,  sae 
we  hev  tae  ford,  and  the  snaw's  been  melting 
up  Urtach  way.  There's  nae  doot  the  water's 
gey  big,  and  it's  threatenin'  tae  rise,  but  we  'ill 
win  through  wi'  a  warstle. 

"  It  micht  be  safer  tae  lift  the  instruments 
oot  o'  reach  o'  the  water ;  wud  ye  mind  had* 
din'  them  on  yir  knee  till  we're  ower,  an'  keep 
firm  in  yir  seat  in  case  we  come  on  a  stane  in 
the  bed  o'  the  river." 

By  this  time  they  had  come  to  the  edge,  and 
it  was  not  a  cheering  sight.  The  Tochty  had 
spread  out  over  the  meadows,  and  while  they 
waited  they  could  see  it  cover  another  two 
inches  on  the  trunk  of  a  tree.  There  are  sum- 
mer floods,  when  the  water  is  brown  and  flecked 
with  foam,  but  this  was  a  winter  flood,  which 
is  black  and  sullen,  and  runs  in  the  centre  with 
a  strong,  fierce,  silent  current.  Upon  the  op 
posite  side  Hillocks  stood  to  give  directions  by 
word  and  hand,  as  the  ford  was  on  his  land,  and 
none  knew  the  Tochty  better  in  all  its  ways. 


THROUGH   THE   FLOOD  265 

They  passed  through  the  shallow  water  with- 
out mishap,  save  when  the  wheel  struck  a 
hidden  stone  or  fell  suddenly  into  a  rut ;  but 
when  they  neared  the  body  of  the  river  Mac- 
Lure  halted,  to  give  Jess  a  minute's  breathing. 

"  It  'ill  tak  ye  a'  yir  time,  lass,  an'  a'  wud 
raither  be  on  yir  back  ;  but  ye  never  failed  me 
yet,  and  a  wumman's  life  is  hangin'  on  the 
crossin'." 

With  the  first  plunge  into  the  bed  of  the 
stream  the  water  rose  to  the  axles,  and  then  it 
crept  up  to  the  shafts,  so  that  the  surgeon 
could  feel  it  lapping  in  about  his  feet,  while 
the  dogcart  began  to  quiver,  and  it  seemed  as 
if  it  were  to  be  carried  away.  Sir  George  was 
as  brave  as  most  men,  but  he  had  never  forded 
a  Highland  river  in  flood,  and  the  mass  of 
black  water  racing  past  beneath,  before,  behind 
him,  affected  his  imagination  and  shook  his 
nerves.  He  rose  from  his  seat  and  ordered 
MacLure  to  turn  back,  declaring  that  he  would 
be  condemned  utterly  and  eternally  if  he  allow- 
ed himself  to  be  drowned  for  any  person. 

"  Sit  doon,"  thundered  MacLure ;  "  con- 
demned ye  will  be  suner  or  later  gin  ye  shirk 


266  A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

yir  duty,  but  through  the  water  ye  gang  the 
day." 

Both  men  spoke  much  more  strongly  and 
shortly,  but  this  is  what  they  intended  to  say, 
and  it  was  MacLure  that  prevailed. 

Jess  trailed  her  feet  along  the  ground  with 
cunning  art,  and  held  her  shoulder  against  the 
stream ;  MacLure  leant  forward  in  his  seat,  a 
rein  in  each  hand,  and  his  eyes  fixed  on  Hil- 
locks, who  was  now  standing  up  to  the  waist  in 
the  water,  shouting  directions  and  cheering  on 
horse  and  driver. 

"  Haud  tae  the  richt,  doctor;  there's  a  hole 
yonder.  Keep  oot  o't  for  ony  sake.  That's  it ; 
yir  daein*  fine.  Steady,  man,  steady.  Yir  at 
the  deepest ;  sit  heavy  in  yir  seats.  Up  the 
channel  noo,  and  ye  '11  be  oot  o'  the  swirL, 
Weel  dune,  Jess,  weel  dune,  auld  mare !  Mak 
straicht  for  me,  doctor,  an'  a'll  gie  ye  the  road 
oot.  Ma  word,  ye've  dune  yir  best,  baith  o'  ye 
this  mornin',"  cried  Hillocks,  splashing  up  to 
the  dogcart,  now  in  the  shallows. 

"  Sail,  it  wes  titch  an'  go  for  a  meenut  in  the 
middle ;  a  Hielan'  ford  is  a  kittle  (hazardous) 
road  in  the  snaw  time,  but  ye're  safe  noo. 


THROUGH    THE    FLOOD  267 

"  Gude  luck  tae  ye  up  at  Westerton,  sir ; 
nane  but  a  richt-hearted  man  wud  hae  riskit 
the  Tochty  in  flood.  Ye're  boond  tae  succeed 
aifter  sic  a  graund  beginnin',"  for  it  had  spread 
already  that  a  famous  surgeon  had  come  to  do 
his  best  for  Annie,  Tammas  Mitchell's  wife. 

Two  hours  later  MacLure  came  out  from 
Annie's  room  and  laid  hold  of  Tammas,  a 
heap  of  speechless  misery  by  the  kitchen  fire, 
and  carried  him  off  to  the  barn,  and  spread 
some  corn  on  the  threshing  floor  and  thrust  a 
flail  into  his  hands. 

"  Noo  we've  tae  begin,  an  we  'ill  no  be  dune 
for  an*  oor,  and  ye've  tae  lay  on  withoot  stop- 
pin'  till  a'  come  for  ye,  an'  a'll  shut  the  door 
tae  haud  in  the  noise,  an'  keep  yir  dog  beside 
ye,  for  there  maunna  be  a  cheep  aboot  the 
hoose  for  Annie's  sake." 

"  A'll  dae  onythingye  want  me,  but  if — if " 

"A'll  come  for  ye,  Tammas,  gin  there  be 
danger ;  but  what  are  ye  feared  for  wi'  the 
Queen's  ain  surgeon  here  ?" 

Fifty  minutes  did  the  flail  rise  and  fall,  save 
twice,  when  Tammas  crept  to  the  door  and 
listened,  the  dog  lifting  his  head  and  whining. 


268  A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

It  seemed  twelve  hours  instead  of  one  when 
the  door  swung  back,  and  MacLure  filled  the 
doorway,  preceded  by  a  great  burst  of  light, 
for  the  sun  had  arisen  on  the  snow. 

His  face  was  as  tidings  of  great  joy,  and  Els- 
peth  told  me  that  there  was  nothing  like  it  to 
be  seen  that  afternoon  for  glory,  save  the  sun 
itself  in  the  heavens. 

"A*  never  saw  the  marrow  o't,  Tammas,  an* 
a*ll  never  see  the  like  again  ;  it's  a'  ower,  man, 
withoot  a  hitch  frae  beginnin*  tae  end,  and 
she's  fa'in'  asleep  as  fine  as  ye  like." 

"  Dis  he  think  Annie  .  .  .   'ill  live  ?'* 

"  Of  coorse  he  dis,  and  be  aboot  the  hoose 
inside  a  month  ;  that's  the  gude  o'  bein*  a 
clean-bluided,  weel-livin* " 

"  Preserve  ye,  man,  what's  wrang  wi'  ye  ?  it's 
a  mercy  a*  keppit  ye,  or  we  wud  hev  hed 
anither  job  for  Sir  George. 

"  Ye're  a*  richt  noo ;  sit  doon  on  the  strae. 
A'll  come  back  in  a  whilie,  an*  ye  'ill  see  Annie 
juist  for  a  meenut,  but  ye  maunna  say  a  word.'* 

Marget  took  him  in  and  let  him  kneel  by 
Annie's  bedside. 

He    said    nothing    then   or  afterwards,   for 


THROUGH   THE   FLOOD  269 

speech  came  only  once  in  his  lifetime  to  Tarn- 
mas,  but  Annie  whispered,  "  Ma  ain  dear 
man." 

When  the  doctor  placed  the  precious  bag  be- 
side  Sir  George  in  our  solitary  first  next  morn- 
ing, he  laid  a  cheque  beside  it  and  was  about 
to  leave. 

"  No,  no,"  said  the  great  man.  "  Mrs.  Mac- 
fadyen  and  I  were  on  the  gossip  last  night,  and 
I  know  the  whole  story  about  you  and  your 
friend. 

"  You  have  some  right  to  call  me  a  coward, 
but  I'll  never  let  you  count  me  a  mean,  miser- 
ly rascal,"  and  the  cheque  with  Drumsheugh's 
painful  writing  fell  in  fifty  pieces  on  the  floor. 

As  the  train  began  to  move,  a  voice  from  the 
first  called  so  that  all  in  the  station  heard. 

"  Give's  another  shake  of  your  hand,  Mac- 
Lure  ;  I'm  proud  to  have  met  you  ;  you  are  an 
honour  to  our  profession.  Mind  the  antiseptic 
dressings." 

It  was  market  day,  but  only  Jamie  Soutar 
and  Hillocks  had  ventured  down. 

"  Did  ye  hear  yon,  Hillocks  ?  hoo  dae  ye 
feel?  A'll  no  deny  a'm  lifted." 


270  A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

Halfway  to  the  Junction  Hillocks  had  re- 
covered, and  began  to  grasp  the  situation. 

"  Tell's  what  he  said.  A'  wud  like  to  hae  it 
exact  for  Drumsheugh." 

"Thae's  the  eedentical  words,  an'  they're 
true ;  there's  no  a  man  in  Drumtochty  disna 
ken  that,  except  ane." 

"  An'  wha's  that,  Jamie  ?" 

"  It's  Weelum  MacLure  himsel.  Man,  a've 
often  girned  that  he  sud  fecht  awa  for  us  a', 
and  maybe  dee  before  he  kent  that  he  hed 
githered  mair  luve  than  ony  man  in  the  Glen. 

" '  A'm  prood  tae  hae  met  ye',  says  Sir 
George,  an'  him  the  greatest  doctor  in  the 
land.     '  Yir  an  honour  tae  oor  profession.' 

"  Hillocks,  a'  wudna  hae  missed  it  for  twenty 
notes,"  said  James  Soutar,  cynic-in-ordinary  to 
the  parish  of  Drumtochty. 


Ill 

A  FIGHT  WITH   DEATH 

When  Drumsheugh's  grieve  was  brought  to 
the  gates  of  death  by  fever,  caught,  as  was  sup- 
posed, on  an  adventurous  visit  to  Glasgow,  the 
London  doctor  at  Lord  Kilspindie's  shooting 
lodge  looked  in  on  his  way  from  the  moor,  and 
declared  it  impossible  for  Saunders  to  live 
through  the  night. 

"  I  give  him  six  hours,  more  or  less ;  it  is 
only  a  question  of  time,"  said  the  oracle,  but- 
toning his  gloves  and  getting  into  the  brake  ; 
"  tell  your  parish  doctor  that  I  was  sorry  not  to 
have  met  him." 

Bell  heard  this  verdict  from  behind  the  door, 
and  gave  way  utterly,  but  Drumsheugh  declined 
to  accept  it  as  final,  and  devoted  himself  to 
consolation. 

"  Dinna  greet   like  that,  Bell   wumman,  sae 


272  A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

lang  as  Saunders  is  still  livin' ;  a'll  never  give 
up  houp,  for  ma  pairt,  till  oor  ain  man  says  the 
word. 

"A*  the  doctors  in  the  land  dinna  ken  as 
muckle  aboot  us  as  Weelum  MacLure,  an'  he's 
ill  tae  beat  when  he's  tryin'  tae  save  a  man's 
life." 

MacLure,  on  his  coming,  would  say  nothing, 
either  weal  or  woe,  till  he  had  examined  Saun- 
ders. Suddenly  his  face  turned  into  iron  before 
their  eyes,  and  he  looked  like  one  encountering 
a  merciless  foe.  For  there  was  a  feud  between 
MacLure  and  a  certain  mighty  power  which  had 
lasted  for  forty  years  in  Drumtochty. 

"  The  London  doctor  said  that  Saunders  wud 
sough  awa  afore  mornin',  did  he  ?  Weel,  he's 
an  authority  on  fevers  an'  sic  like  diseases,  an 
ought  tae  ken. 

"  It's  may  be  presumptous  o'  me  tae  differ 
frae  him,  and  it  wudna  be  verra  respectfu'  o' 
Saunders  tae  live  aifter  this  opeenion.  But 
Saunders  wes  aye  thraun  an'  ill  tae  drive,  an* 
he's  as  like  as  no  tae  gang  his  ain  gait. 

"  A'm  no  meanin'  tae  reflect  on  sae  clever  a 
man,  but  he  didna  ken  the  seetuation.     He  can 


A  FIGHT  WITH  DEATH  273 

read  fevers  like  a  buik,  but  he  never  cam  across 
sic  a  thing  as  the  Drumtochty  constitution  a* 
his  days. 

"  Ye  see,  when  onybody  gets  as  low  as  puir 
Saunders  here,  it's  juist  a  hand  to  hand  wrastle 
atween  the  fever  and  his  constitution,  an*  of 
coorse,  if  he  hed  been  a  shilpit,  stuntit,  feckless 
effeegy  o'  a  cratur,  fed  on  tea  an'  made  dishes 
and  pushioned  wi'  bad  air,  Saunders  wud  hae  nae 
chance ;  he  wes  boond  tae  gae  oot  like  the  snuff 
o'  a  candle. 

"  But  Saunders  hes  been  fillin'  his  lungs  for 
five  and  thirty  year  wi'  strong  Drumtochty  air, 
an'  eatin'  naethin'  but  kirny  aitmeal,  and  drink- 
in*  naethin'  but  fresh  milk  frae  the  coo,  an* 
followin'  the  ploo  through  the  new-turned, 
sweet-smellin'  earth,  an'  swingin'  the  scythe  in 
haytime  and  harvest,  till  the  legs  an'  airms  o' 
him  were  iron,  an'  his  chest  wes  like  the  cuttin' 
o'  an  oak  tree. 

"  He's  a  waesome  sicht  the  nicht,  but  Saun- 
ders wes  a  buirdly  man  aince,  and  wull  never 
lat  his  life  be  taken  lichtly  frae  him.  Na,  na, 
he  hesna  sinned  against  Nature,  and  Nature  'ill 
stand  by  him  noo  in  his  oor  o'  distress. 
S 


274  A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

"  A'  daurna  say  yea,  Bell,  muckle  as  a*  wud 
like,  for  this  is  an  evil  disease,  cunnin'  an'  treach- 
erous as  the  deevil  himsel',  but  a'  winna  say 
nay,  sae  keep  yir  hert  frae  despair. 

"  It  wull  be  a  sair  fecht,  but  it  'ill  be  settled 
one  wy  or  anither  by  sax  o'clock  the  morn's 
morn.  Nae  man  can  prophecee  hoo  it  'ill  end, 
but  ae  thing  is  certain,  a'll  no  see  deith  tak  a 
Drumtochty  man  afore  his  time  if  a'  can  help  it. 

"  Noo,  Bell  ma  wumman,  yir  near  deid  wi' 
tire,  an'  nae  wonder.  Ye've  dune  a'  ye  cud  for 
yir  man,  an'  ye  'ill  lippen  (trust)  him  the  nicht  tae 
Drumsheugh  an'  me  ;  we  'ill  no  fail  him  or  you. 

"  Lie  doon  an'  rest,  an'  if  it  be  the  wull  o'  the 
Almichty  a'll  wauken  ye  in  the  mornin'  tae  see 
a  livin'  conscious  man,  an'  if  it  be  itherwise  a'll 
come  for  ye  the  suner,  Bell,"  and  the  big  red 
hand  went  out  to  the  anxious  wife.  "  A'  gie  ye 
ma  word." 

Bell  kleant  over  the  bed,  and  at  the  sight  of 
Saunders'  face  a  superstitious  dread  seized  her. 

"  See,  doctor,  the  shadow  of  deith  is  on  him 
chat  never  lifts.  A've  seen  it  afore,  on  ma 
father  an'  mither.  A*  canna  leave  him,  a'  canna 
leave  him." 


A  FIGHT  WITH    DEATH  275 

"  It's  hoverin',  Bell,  but  it  hesna  fallen ; 
please  God  it  never  wull.  Gang  but  and  get 
some  sleep,  for  it's  time  we  were  at  oor  work. 

"  The  doctors  in  the  toons  hae  nurses  an'  a' 
kinds  o'  handy  apparatus,"  said  MacLure  to 
Drumsheugh  when  Bell  had  gone,  "  but  you 
an'  me  'ill  need  tae  be  nurse  the  nicht,  an*  use 
sic  things  as  we  hev. 

"It  'ill  be  a  lang  nicht  and  anxious  wark, 
but  a'  wud  raither  hae  ye,  auld  freend,  wi'  me 
than  ony  man  in  the  Glen.  Ye're  no  feared 
tae  gie  a  hand  ?" 

"  Me  feared  ?  No  likely.  Man,  Saunders  cam 
tae  me  a  haflin,  and  hes  been  on  Drumsheugh 
for  twenty  years,  an'  though  he  be  a  dour 
chiel,  he's  a  faithfu'  servant  as  ever  lived.  It's 
waesome  tae  see  him  lyin'  there  moanin'  like 
some  dumb  animal  frae  mornin'  tae  nicht,  an' 
no  able  tae  answer  his  ain  wife  when  she 
speaks. 

"  Div  ye  think,  Weelum,  he  hes  a  chance  ?" 

"  That  he  hes,  at  ony  rate,  and  it  'ill  no  be 
your  blame  or  mine  if  he  hesna  mair." 

While  he  was  speaking,  MacLure  took  off  his 
coat  and  waistcoat  and  hung  them  on  the  back 


276  A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

of  the  door.  Then  he  rolled  up  the  sleeves  of 
his  shirt  and  laid  bare  two  arms  that  were 
nothing  but  bone  and  muscle. 

"  It  gar'd  ma  very  blood  rin  faster  tae  the 
end  of  ma  fingers  juist  tae  look  at  him,"  Drums- 
heugh  expatiated  afterwards  to  Hillocks,  "  for 
a*  saw  noo  that  there  was  tae  be  a  stand-up 
fecht  atween  him  an*  deith  for  Saunders,  and 
when  a*  thocht  o'  Bell  an'  her  bairns,  a'  kent 
wha  wud  win. 

"  '  Aff  wi*  yir  coat,  Drumsheugh/  said  Mac- 
Lure  ;  'ye  'ill  need  tae  bend  yir  back  the 
nicht ;  gither  a'  the  pails  in  the  hoose  and  fill 
them  at  the  spring,  an*  a'll  come  doon  tae  help 
ye  wf  the  carryinV  " 

It  was  a  wonderful  ascent  up  the  steep  path- 
way from  the  spring  to  the  cottage  on  its  little 
knoll,  the  two  men  in  single  file,  bareheaded, 
silent,  solemn,  each  with  a  pail  of  water  in 
either  hand,  MacLure  limping  painfully  in 
front,  Drumsheugh  blowing  behind ;  and  when 
they  laid  down  their  burden  in  the  sick  room, 
where  the  bits  of  furniture  had  been  put  to  a 
side  and  a  large  tub  held  the  centre,  Drums- 
heugh looked  curiously  at  the  doctor. 


A  FIGHT  WITH   DEATH  277 

"  No,  a'm  no  daft ;  ye  needna  be  feared  ;  but 
yir  tae  get  yir  first  lesson  in  medicine  the  nicht, 
an'  if  we  win  the  battle  ye  can  set  up  for  yer- 
sel  in  the  Glen. 

"  There's  twa  dangers — that  Saunders' 
strength  fails,  an'  that  the  force  o'  the  fever 
grows  ;  and  we  have  juist  twa  weapons. 

"  Yon  milk  on  the  drawers'  head  an'  the  bot- 
tle of  whisky  is  tae  keep  up  the  strength,  and 
this  cool  caller  water  is  tae  keep  doon  the  fever. 

"  We  'ill  cast  oot  the  fever  by  the  virtue  o' 
the  earth  an'  the  water." 

"  Div  ye  mean  tae  pit  Saunders  in  the  tub?" 

"  Ye  hiv  it  noo,  Drumsheugh,  and  that's  hoo 
a'  need  yir  help." 

"  Man,  Hillocks,"  Drumsheugh  used  to  mor- 
alise, as  often  as  he  remembered  that  critical 
night,  "  it  wes  humblin'  tae  see  hoo  low  sick- 
ness can  bring  a  pooerfu*  man,  an*  ocht  tae 
keep  us  frae  pride. 

"  A  month  syne  there  wesna  a  stronger  man 
in  the  Glen  than  Saunders,  an'  noo  he  wes  juist 
a  bundle  o'  skin  and  bone,  that  naither  saw  nor 
heard,  nor  moved  nor  felt,  that  kent  naethin' 
that  was  dune  tae  him. 


278  A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

H  Hillocks,  a'  wudna  hae  wished  ony  man  tae 
hev  seen  Saunders — for  it  wull  never  pass  frae 
before  ma  een  as  long  as  a*  live — but  a*  wish  a* 
the  Glen  hed  stude  by  MacLure  kneelin'  on 
the  floor  wi'  his  sleeves  up  tae  his  oxters  and 
waitin'  on  Saunders. 

"  Yon  big  man  wes  as  pitifu'  an*  gentle  as  a 
wumman,  and  when  he  laid  the  puir  fallow  in 
his  bed  again,  he  happit  him  ower  as  a  mither 
dis  her  bairn." 

Thrice  it  was  done,  Drumsheugh  ever  bring- 
ing up  colder  water  from  the  spring,  and  twice 
MacLure  was  silent ;  but  after  the  third  time 
there  was  a  gleam  in  his  eye. 

"  We're  haudin'  oor  ain ;  we're  no  bein'  mais- 
tered,  at  ony  rate ;  mair  a'  canna  say  for  three 
oors. 

"We  'ill  no  need  the  water  again,  Drums- 
heugh ;  gae  oot  and  tak  a  breath  o'  air ;  a'm 
on  gaird  masel." 

It  was  the  hour  before  daybreak,  and  Drums- 
heugh wandered  through  fields  he  had  trod- 
den since  childhood.  The  cattle  lay  sleeping 
in  the  pastures ;  their  shadowy  forms,  with  a 
patch   of  whiteness  here  and  there,  having  a 


A   FIGHT  WITH   DEATH  279 

weird  suggestion  of  death.  He  heard  the  burn 
running  over  the  stones  ;  fifty  years  ago  he  had 
made  a  dam  that  lasted  till  winter.  The  hoot- 
ing of  an  owl  made  him  start ;  one  had  fright- 
ened him  as  a  boy  so  that  he  ran  home  to  his 
mother — she  died  thirty  years  ago.  The  smell 
of  ripe  corn  filled  the  air ;  it  would  soon  be  cut 
and  garnered.  He  could  see  the  dim  outlines 
of  his  house,  all  dark  and  cold  ;  no  one  he  loved 
was  beneath  the  roof.  The  lighted  window  in 
Saunders'  cottage  told  where  a  man  hung  be- 
tween life  and  death,  but  love  was  in  that 
home.  The  futility  of  life  arose  before  this 
lonely  man,  and  overcame  his  heart  with  an  in- 
describable sadness.  What  a  vanity  was  all 
human  labour,  what  a  mystery  all  human  life. 

But  while  he  stood,  a  subtle  change  came 
over  the  night,  and  the  air  trembled  round  him 
as  if  one  had  whispered.  Drumsheugh  lifted 
his  head  and  looked  eastwards.  A  faint  grey 
stole  over  the  distant  horizon,  and  suddenly  a 
cloud  reddened  before  his  eyes.  The  sun  was 
not  in  sight,  but  was  rising,  and  sending  fore- 
runners before  his  face.  The  cattle  began  to 
stir,  a  blackbird  burst  into  song,   and   before 


28o  A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

Drumsheugh  crossed  the  threshold  of  Saunders' 
house,  the  first  ray  of  the  sun  had  broken  on  a 
peak  of  the  Grampians. 

MacLure  left  the  bedside,  and  as  the  light  of 
the  candle  fell  on  the  doctor's  face,  Drums- 
heugh could  see  that  it  was  going  well  with 
Saunders. 

"  He's  nae  waur ;  an'  it's  half  six  noo  ;  it's 
ower  sune  tae  say  mair,  but  a'm  houpin'  for 
the  best.  Sit  doon  and  take  a  sleep,  for  ye're 
needin'  't,  Drumsheugh,  an',  man,  ye  hae  worked 
for  it." 

As  he  dozed  off,  the  last  thing  Drumsheugh 
saw  was  the  doctor  sitting  erect  in  his  chair,  a 
clenched  fist  resting  on  the  bed,  and  his  eyes 
already  bright  with  the  vision  of  victory. 

He  awoke  with  a  start  to  find  the  room 
flooded  with  the  morning  sunshine,  and  every 
trace  of  last  night's  work  removed. 

The  doctor  was  bending  over  the  bed,  and 
speaking  to  Saunders. 

"  It's  me,  Saunders,  Doctor  MacLure,  ye  ken  ; 
dinna  try  tae  speak  or  move  ;  juist  let  this  drap 
milk  slip  ower — ye  'ill  be  needin'  yir  breakfast, 
lad — and  gang  tae  sleep  again." 


A   FIGHT  WITH   DEATH  281 

Five  minutes,  and  Saunders  had  fallen  into  a 
deep,  healthy  sleep,  all  tossing  and  moaning 
come  to  an  end.  Then  MacLure  stepped 
softly  across  the  floor,  picked  up  his  coat  and 
waistcoat,  and  went  out  at  the  door. 

Drumsheugh  arose  and  followed  him  without 
a  word.  They  passed  through  the  little  gar- 
den, sparkling  with  dew,  and  beside  the  byre, 
where  Hawkie  rattled  her  chain,  impatient  for 
Bell's  coming,  and  by  Saunders*  little  strip  of 
corn  ready  for  the  scythe,  till  they  reached  an 
open  field.  There  they  came  to  a  halt,  and 
Doctor  MacLure  for  once  allowed  himself  to 
go. 

His  coat  he  flung  east  and  his  waistcoat 
west,  as  far  as  he  could  hurl  them,  and  it  was 
plain  he  would  have  shouted  had  he  been  a 
complete  mile  from  Saunders*  room.  Any  less 
distance  was  useless  for  adequate  expression. 
He  struck  Drumsheugh  a  mighty  blow  that 
well-nigh  levelled  that  substantial  man  in  the 
dust,  and  then  the  doctor  of  Drumtochty  issued 
his  bulletin. 

"  Saunders  wesna  tae  live  through  the  nicht, 
but  he's  livin'  this  meenut,  an*  like  to  live. 


282  A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

"  He's  got  by  the  warst  clean  and  fair,  and 
wV  him  that's  as  good  as  cure. 

"  It'  ill  be  a  graund  waukenin'  for  Bell ;  she  'ill 
no  be  a  weedow  yet,  nor  the  bairnies  fatherless. 

"There's  nae  use  glowerin'  at  me,  Drums- 
heugh,  for  a  body's  daft  at  a  time,  an'  a'  canna 
contain  masel,  and  a'm  no  gaein'  tae  try." 

Then  it  dawned  upon  Drumsheugh  that  the 
doctor  was  attempting  the  Highland  fling. 

"  He's  ill  made  tae  begin  wi',"  Drumsheugh 
explained  in  the  kirkyard  next  Sabbath,  "  and 
ye  ken  he's  been  terrible  mishannelled  by  ac- 
cidents, sae  ye  may  think  what  like  it  wes,  but, 
as  sure  as  deith,  o'  a'  the  Hielan'  flings  a'  ever 
saw  yon  wes  the  bonniest. 

"  A'  hevna  shaken  ma  ain  legs  for  thirty 
years,  but  a'  confess  tae  a  turn  masel.  Ye  may 
lauch  an'  ye  like,  neeburs,  but  the  thocht  o* 
Bell  an'  the  news  that  wes  waitin'  her  got  the 
better  o'  me." 

Drumtochty  did  not  laugh.  Drumtochty 
looked  as  if  it  could  have  done  quite  otherwise 
for  joy. 

"  A'  wud  hae  made  a  third  gin  a'  hed  been 
there,"  announced  Hillocks,  aggressively- 


A   FIGHT   WITH   DEATH  283 

"  Come  on,  Drumsheugh,"  said  Jamie  Soutar, 
"gie's  the  end  o't ;  it  wes  a  michty  morninV 

"  ',  We're  twa  auld  fules,'  says  MacLure  tae 
me,  and  he  gaithers  up  his  claithes.  *  It  wud 
set  us  better  tae  be  tellin'  Bell.' 

"  She  wes  sleepin'  on  the  top  o'  her  bed 
wrapped  in  a  plaid,  fair  worn  oot  wi*  three 
weeks'  nursin'  o'  Saunders,  but  at  the  first  touch 
she  was  oot  upon  the  floor. 

"  ■  Is  Saunders  deein',  doctor  ? '  she  cries.  '  Ye 
promised  tae  wauken  me ;  dinna  tell  me  it's  a* 
ower.' 

"  '  There's  nae  deein'  aboot  him,  Bell ;  ye're 
no  tae  lose  yir  man  this  time,  sae  far  as  a'  can 
see.     Come  ben  an'  jidge  for  yersel'.' 

"  Bell  lookit  at  Saunders,  and  the  tears  of  joy 
fell  on  the  bed  like  rain. 

"  '  The  shadow's  lifted,'  she  said  ;  '  he's  come 
back  frae  the  mooth  o'  the  tomb. 

"'A'  prayed  last  nicht  that  the  Lord  wud 
leave  Saunders  till  the  laddies  cud  dae  for  them- 
selves, an'  thae  words  came  intae  ma  mind, 
"  Weepin'  may  endure  for  a  nicht,  but  joy 
cometh  in  the  morninV 

"  '  The  Lord  heard  ma  prayer,  and  joy  hes 


284  A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

come  in  the  mornin','  an'  she  gripped  the  doc- 
tor's hand. 

" '  Ye've  been  the  instrument,  Doctor  Mac- 
Lure.  Ye  wudna  gie  him  up,  and  ye  did  what 
nae  ither  cud  for  him,  an'  a've  ma  man  the  day, 
and  the  bairns  hae  their  father.' 

"  An*  afore  MacLure  kent  what  she  was 
daein',  Bell  lifted  his  hand  to  her  lips  an'  kissed 
it." 

"  Did  she,  though  ?"  cried  Jamie.  "  Wha 
wud  hae  thocht  there  wes  as  muckle  spunk  in 
Bell?" 

"  MacLure,  of  coorse,  was  clean  scandalised," 
continued  Drumsheugh,  "  an'  pooed  awa  his 
hand  as  if  it  hed  been  burned. 

"  Nae  man  can  thole  that  kind  o'  fraikin',  and 
a'  never  heard  o'  sic  a  thing  in  the  parish,  but 
we  maun  excuse  Bell,  neeburs  ;  it  wes  an  occa- 
sion by  ordinar,"  and  Drumsheugh  made  Bell's 
apology  to  Drumtochty  for  such  an  excess  of 
feeling. 

"  A'  see  naethin'  tae  excuse,"  insisted  Jamie, 
who  was  in  great  fettle  that  Sabbath ;  "  the 
doctor  hes  never  been  burdened  wi'  fees,  and 
a'm  judgin'  he  coonted  a  wumman's  gratitude 


A   FIGHT  WITH   DEATH  285 

that  he  saved  frae  weedowhood  the  best  he  ever 
got." 

"  A*  gaed  up  tae  the  Manse  last  nicht,"  con- 
cluded Drumsheugh,  "  and  telt  the  minister  hoo 
the  doctor  focht  aucht  oors  for  Saunders*  life, 
an*  won,  and  ye  never  saw  a  man  sae  carried. 
He  walkit  up  and  doon  the  room  a*  the  time> 
and  every  other  meenut  he  blew  his  nose  like  a 
trumpet. 

" ■  I've  a  cold  in  my  head  to-night,  Drums- 
heugh/ says  he  ;  *  never  mind  me/  " 

"  A've  hed  the  same  masel  in  sic  circum- 
stances ;  they  come  on  sudden,"  said  Jamie. 

"  A'  wager  there  'ill  be  a  new  bit  in  the  laist 
prayer  the  day,  an*  somethin'  worth  hearin\" 

And  the  fathers  went  into  kirk  in  great  ex- 
pectation. 

"  We  beseech  Thee  for  such  as  be  sick,  that 
Thy  hand  may  be  on  them  for  good,  and  that 
Thou  wouldst  restore  them  again  to  health  and 
strength,"  was  the  familiar  petition  of  every 
Sabbath. 

The  congregation  waited  in  a  silence  that 
might  be  heard,  and  were  not  disappointed  that 
morning,  for  the  minister  continued : 


286    A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

"  Especially  we  tender  Thee  hearty  thanks 
that  Thou  didst  spare  Thy  servant  who  was 
brought  down  into  the  dust  of  death,  and  hast 
given  him  back  to  his  wife  and  children,  and 
unto  that  end  didst  wonderfully  bless  the  skill 
of  him  who  goes  out  and  in  amongst  us,  the  be- 
loved physician  of  this  parish  and  adjacent 
districts." 

"  Didna  a'  tell  ye,  neeburs  ?"  said  Jamie,  as 
they  stood  at  the  kirkyard  gate  before  dispers- 
ing ;  "  there's  no  a  man  in  the  coonty  cud  hae 
dune  it  better,  f  Beloved  physician,'  an'  his 
*  skill,'  tae,  an'  bringing  in  '  adjacent  districts ' ; 
that's  Glen  Urtach  ;  it  wes  handsome,  and  the 
doctor  earned  it,  ay,  every  word. 

"  It's  an  awfu'  peety  he  didna  hear  yon  ;  but 
dear  knows  whar  he  is  the  day,  maist  likely 
up " 

Jamie  stopped  suddenly  at  the  sound  of  a 
horse's  feet,  and  there,  coming  down  the  ave- 
nue of  beech  trees  that  made  a  long  vista  from 
the  kirk  gate,  they  saw  the  doctor  and  Jess. 

One  thought  flashed  through  the  minds  of 
the  fathers  of  the  commonwealth. 

It  ought  to  be  done  as  he  passed,  and  it  would 


A  FIGHT   WITH  DEATH  287 

be  done  if  it  were  not  Sabbath.  Of  course  it 
was  out  of  the  question  on  Sabbath. 

The  doctor  is  now  distinctly  visible,  riding 
after  his  fashion. 

There  was  never  such  a  chance,  if  it  were  only 
Saturday ;  and  each  man  reads  his  own  regret 
in  his  neighbour's  face. 

The  doctor  is  nearing  them  rapidly ;  they  can 
imagine  the  shepherd's  tartan. 

Sabbath  or  no  Sabbath,  the  Glen  cannot  let 
him  pass  without  some  tribute  of  their  pride. 

Jess  has  recognised  friends,  and  the  doctor  is 
drawing  rein. 

"  It  hes  tae  be  dune,"  said  Jamie  desperately, 
"say  what  ye  like."  Then  they  all  looked 
towards  him,  and  Jamie  led. 

"  Hurrah,"  swinging  his  Sabbath  hat  in  the 
air,  "  hurrah,"  and  once  more,  "  hurrah,"  Whin- 
nie  Knowe,  Drumsheugh,  and  Hillocks  joining 
lustily,  but  Tammas  Mitchell  carrying  all  before 
him,  for  he  had  found  at  last  an  expression  for 
his  feelings  that  rendered  speech  unnecessary. 

It  was  a  solitary  experience  for  horse  and 
rider,  and  Jess  bolted  without  delay.  But  the 
sound  followed  and  surrounded  them,  and  as 


288  A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

they  passed  the  corner  of  the  kirkyard,  a  figure 
waved  his  college  cap  over  the  wall  and  gave  a 
cheer  on  his  own  account. 

"  God  bless  you,  doctor,  and  well  done." 

"  If  it  isna  the  minister,"  cried  Drumsheugh, 
"  in  his  goon  an*  bans ;  tae  think  o'  that ;  but 
a*  respeck  him  for  it." 

Then  Drumtochty  became  self-conscious,  and 
went  home  in  confusion  of  face  and  unbroken 
silence,  except  Jamie  Soutar,  who  faced  his 
neighbours  at  the  parting  of  the  ways  without 
shame. 

"  A*  wud  dae  it  a*  ower  again  if  a'  hed  the 
chance ;  he  got  naethin'  but  his  due." 

It  was  two  miles  before  Jess  composed  her 
mind,  and  the  doctor  and  she  could  discuss  it 
quietly  together. 

"A'  can  hardly  believe  ma  ears,  Jess,  an*  the 
Sabbath  tae ;  their  verra  jidgment  hes  gane  frae 
the  fouk  o'  Drumtochty. 

"  They've  heard  about  Saunders,  a'm  thinking 
wumman,  and  they're  pleased  we  brocht  him 
roond;    he's    fairly  on    the    mend,    ye    ken, 
noo. 
,    "  A*  never  expeckit  the  like  o'  this,  though, 


A   FIGHT  WITH   DEATH  289 

and  it  wes  juist  a  wee  thingie  mair  than  a'  cud 
hae  stude. 

"  Ye  hev  yir  share  in't  tae,  lass ;  we've  hed 
mony  a  hard  nicht  and  day  thegither,  an'  yon 
wes  oor  reward.  No  mony  men  in  this  warld 
'ill  ever  get  a  better,  for  it  cam  frae  the  hert  o' 
honest  fouk." 


IV 

THE  DOCTOR'S  LAST  JOURNEY 

Drumtochty  had  a  vivid  recollection  of  the 
winter  when  Dr.  MacLure  was  laid  up  for  two 
months  with  a  broken  leg,  and  the  Glen  was 
dependent  on  the  dubious  ministrations  of  the 
Kildrummie  doctor.  Mrs.  Macfadyen  also  pre- 
tended to  recall  a  "whup"  of  some  kind  or 
other  he  had  in  the  fifties,  but  this  was  con- 
sidered to  be  rather  a  pyrotechnic  display  of 
Elspeth's  superior  memory  than  a  serious  state- 
ment of  fact.  MacLure  could  not  have  ridden 
through  the  snow  of  forty  winters  without  suf- 
fering, yet  no  one  ever  heard  him  complain,  and 
he  never  pled  illness  to  any  messenger  by  night 
or  day. 

"  It  took  me,"  said  Jamie  Soutar  to  Milton 
afterwards,  "  the  feck  o*  ten  meenuts  tae  howk 
him  an'  Jess  oot  ae  snawy  nicht  when  Drums 
turned  bad  sudden,  and  if  he  didna  try  to  ex- 


THE   DOCTOR'S   LAST   JOURNEY  291 

cuse  himself  for  no  hearing  me  at  aince  wi* 
some  story  aboot  juist  comin'  in  frae  Glen  Ur- 
tach,  and  no  bein'  in  his  bed  for  the  laist  twa 
nichts. 

"  He  wes  that  carefu'  o'  himsel  an'  lazy  that  if 
it  hedna  been  for  the  siller,  a've  often  thocht, 
Milton,  he  wud  never  hae  dune  a  handstroke  o* 
wark  in  the  Glen. 

"  What  scunnered  me  wes  the  wy  the  bairns 
were  ta'en  in  wi'  him.  Man,  a've  seen  him  tak 
a  wee  laddie  on  his  knee  that  his  ain  mither 
cudna  quiet,  an'  lilt  l  Sing  a  song  o'  saxpence* 
till  the  bit  mannie  wud  be  lauchin'  like  a  gude 
ane,  an'  pooin'  the  doctor's  beard. 

"  As  for  the  weemen,  he  fair  cuist  a  glamour 
ower  them  ;  they're  daein'  naethin'  noo  but 
speak  aboot  this  body  and  the  ither  he  cured, 
an'  hoo  he  aye  hed  a  couthy  word  for  sick  fouk. 
Weemen  hae  nae  discernment,  Milton  ;  tae  hear 
them  speak  ye  wud  think  MacLure  hed  been  a 
releegious  man  like  yersel,  although,  as  ye  said, 
he  wes  little  mair  than  a  Gallio. 

"  Bell  Baxter  was  haverin'  awa  in  the  shop 
tae  sic  an  extent  aboot  the  wy  MacLure  brocht 
roond  Saunders  when  he  hed  the  fever  that  a* 


292  A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

gied  oot  at  the  door,  a'  wes  that  disgusted,  an' 
a'm  telt  when  Tammas  Mitchell  heard  the  news 
in  the  smiddy  he  wes  juist  on  the  greeting. 

"The  smith  said  that  he  wes  thinkin'  o' 
Annie's  tribble,  but  ony  wy  a'  ca'  it  rael  bairn- 
ly.  It's  no  like  Drumtochty  ;  ye're  setting  an 
example,  Milton,  wi'  yir  composure.  But  a' 
mind  ye  took  the  doctor's  meesure  as  sune  as 
ye  cam  intae  the  pairish." 

It  is  the  penalty  of  a  cynic  that  he  must 
have  some  relief  for  his  secret  grief,  and  Mil- 
ton began  to  weary  of  life  in  Jamie's  hands 
during  those  days. 

Drumtochty  was  not  observant  in  the  matter 
of  health,  but  they  had  grown  sensitive  about 
Dr.  MacLure,  and  remarked  in  the  kirkyard  all 
summer  that  he  was  failing. 

"  He  wes  aye  spare,"  said  Hillocks,  "  an'  he's 
been  sair  twisted  for  the  laist  twenty  year,  but 
a*  never  mind  him  booed  till  the  year.  An' 
he's  gaein'  intae  sma'  buke  (bulk),  an'  a'  dinna 
like  that,  neeburs. 

"  The  Glen  wudna  dae  weel  withoot  Weelum 
MacLure,  an*  he's  no  as  young  as  he  wes. 
Man,  Drumsheugh,  ye  micht  wile  him  afl  tae 


THE   SMIDDY 


THE   DOCTOR'S   LAST  JOURNEY  293 

the  saut  water  atween  the  neeps  and  the  hairst. 
He's  been  workin'  forty  year  for  a  holiday,  an* 
it's  aboot  due." 

Drumsheugh  was  full  of  tact,  and  met  Mac- 
Lure  quite  by  accident  on  the  road. 

"  Saunders  'ill  no  need  me  till  the  shearing 
begins,"  he  explained  to  the  doctor,  "  an'  a'm 
gaein'  tae  Brochty  for  a  turn  o'  the  hot  baths ; 
they're  fine  for  the  rheumatics. 

"Wull  ye  no  come  wi'  me  for  auld  lang 
syne  ?  it's  lonesome  for  a  solitary  man,  an'  it 
wud  dae  ye  gude." 

"  Na,  na,  Drumsheugh,"  said  MacLure,  who 
understood  perfectly,  "  a've  dune  a*  thae  years 
withoot  a  break,  an'  a'm  laith  (unwilling)  tae 
be  takin'  holidays  at  the  tail  end. 

"  A'll  no  be  mony  months  wi*  ye  a*  thegither 
noo,  an'  a'm  wanting  tae  spend  a'  the  time  a* 
hev  in  the  Glen.  Ye  see  yersel  that  a'll  sune 
be  getting  ma  lang  rest,  an*  a'll  no  deny  that 
a'm  wearyin'  for  it." 

As  autumn  passed  into  winter,  the  Glen  no- 
ticed that  the  doctor's  hair  had  turned  grey, 
and  that  his  manner  had  lost  all  its  roughness. 
A  feeling  of  secret  gratitude  filled  their  hearts, 


294  A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

and  they  united  in  a  conspiracy  of  attention. 
Annie  Mitchell  knitted  a  huge  comforter  in  red 
and  white,  which  the  doctor  wore  in  misery  for 
one  whole  day,  out  of  respect  for  Annie,  and 
then  hung  in  his  sitting-room  as  a  wall  orna- 
ment. Hillocks  used  to  intercept  him  with  hot 
drinks,  and  one  drifting  day  compelled  him  to 
shelter  till  the  storm  abated.  Flora  Campbell 
brought  a  wonderful  compound  of  honey  and 
whisky,  much  tasted  in  Auchindarroch,  for  his 
cough,  and  the  mother  of  young  Burnbrae 
filled  his  cupboard  with  black  jam,  as  a  healing 
measure.  Jamie  Soutar  seemed  to  have  an 
endless  series  of  jobs  in  the  doctor's  direction, 
and  looked  in  "juist  tae  rest  himsel"  in  the 
kitchen. 

MacLure  had  been  slowly  taking  in  the  situa- 
tion, and  at  last  he  unburdened  himself  one 
night  to  Jamie. 

"  What  ails  the  fouk,  think  ye  ?  for  they're 
aye  lecturin'  me  noo  tae  tak  care  o'  the  weet 
and  tae  wrap  masel  up,  an'  there's  no  a  week 
but  they're  sendin'  bit  presents  tae  the  hoose, 
till  a'm  fair  ashamed." 

"  Oo,  a'll  explain  that  in  a  meenut,"  answer- 


THE   DOCTOR'S   LAST  JOURNEY  295 

ed  Jamie,  "  for  a'  ken  the  Glen  weel.  Ye  see 
they're  juist  tryin'  the  Scripture  plan  o'  heap- 
in'  coals  o'  fire  on  yer  head. 

"  Here  ye've  been  negleckin'  the  fouk  in 
seeckness  an*  lettin'  them  dee  afore  their 
freends'  eyes  withoot  a  fecht,  an'  refusin'  tae 
gang  tae  a  puir  wumman  in  her  tribble,  an* 
frichtenin'  the  bairns — no,  a'm  no  dune — and 
scourgin'  us  wi'  fees,  and  livin'  yersel  on  the 
fat  o'  the  land. 

"  Ye've  been  carryin'  on  this  trade  ever  sin 
yir  father  dee'd,  and  the  Glen  didna  notis. 
But  ma  word,  they've  fund  ye  oot  at  laist,  an' 
they're  gaein'  tae  mak  ye  suffer  for  a*  yir  ill 
usage.  Div  ye  understand  noo  ?  "  said  Jamie, 
savagely. 

For  a  while  MacLure  was  silent,  and  then  he 
only  said : 

"  It's  little  a*  did  for  the  puir  bodies ;  but 
ye  hev  a  gude  hert,  Jamie,  a  rael  good 
hert." 

It  was  a  bitter  December  Sabbath,  and  the 
fathers  were  settling  the  affairs  of  the  parish 
ankle  deep  in  snow,  when  MacLure 's  old  house- 
keeper told   Drumsheugh  that  the  doctor  was 


296    A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

not  able  to  rise,  and  wished  to  see  him  in  the 
afternoon. 

"  Ay,  ay,"  said  Hillocks,  shaking  his  head, 
and  that  day  Drumsheugh  omitted  four  pews 
with  the  ladle,  while  Jamie  was  so  vicious  on 
the  way  home  that  none  could  endure  him. 

Janet  had  lit  a  fire  in  the  unused  grate,  and 
hung  a  plaid  by  the  window  to  break  the 
power  of  the  cruel  north  wind,  but  the  bare 
room  with  its  half-a-dozen  bits  of  furniture 
and  a  worn  strip  of  carpet,  and  the  outlook 
upon  the  snow  drifted  up  to  the  second  pane 
of  the  window  and  the  black  firs  laden  with  their 
icy  burden,  sent  a  chill  to  Drumsheugh's  heart. 

The  doctor  had  weakened  sadly,  and  could 
hardly  lift  his  head,  but  his  face  lit  up  at  the 
sight  of  his  visitor,  and  the  big  hand,  which 
was  now  quite  refined  in  its  whiteness,  came  out 
from  the  bed-clothes  with  the  old  warm  grip. 

"  Come  in  by,  man,  and  sit  doon ;  it's  an  aw- 
fu'  day  tae  bring  ye  sae  far,  but  a'  kent  ye 
wudna  grudge  the  traivel. 

"  A'  wesna  sure  till  last  nicht,  an*  then  a* 
felt  it  wudna  be  lang,  an*  a*  took  a  wearyin' 
this  mornin'  tae  see  ye. 


THE   DOCTOR'S   LAST  JOURNEY  297 

"  We've  been  freends  sin'  we  were  laddies  at 
the  auld  schule  in  the  firs,  an'  a*  wud  like  ye 
tae  be  wi'  me  at  the  end.  Ye  'ill  stay  the 
nicht,  Paitrick,  for  auld  lang  syne." 

Drumsheugh  was  niuch  shaken,  and  the 
sound  of  the  Christian  name,  which  he  had  not 
heard  since  his  mother's  death,  gave  him  a 
"  grue"  (shiver),  as  if  one  had  spoken  from  the 
other  world. 

"  It's  maist  awfu'  tae  hear  ye  speakin'  aboot 
deein',  Weelum  ;  a'  canna  bear  it.  We  'ill  hae 
the  Muirtown  doctor  up,  an*  ye  'ill  be  aboot 
again  in  nae  time. 

"  Ye  hevna  ony  sair  tribble ;  ye're  juist 
trachled  wi'  hard  wark  an*  needin'  a  rest. 
Dinna  say  ye're  gaein'  tae  leave  us,  Weelum ; 
we  canna  dae  withoot  ye  in  Drumtochty ;"  and 
Drumsheugh  looked  wistfully  for  some  word  of 
hope. 

"  Na,  na,  Paitrick,  naethin'  can  be  dune,  an* 
it's  ower  late  tae  send  for  ony  doctor.  There's 
a  knock  that  canna  be  mista'en,  an'  a'  heard  it 
last  night.  A've  focht  deith  for  ither  fouk 
mair  than  forty  year,  but  ma  ain  time  hes  come 
at  laist. 


298  A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

"AVe  nae  tribble  worth  mentionin' — a  bit 
titch  o'  bronchitis — an*  aVe  hed  a  graund  con- 
stitution ;  but  a'm  fair  worn  oot,  Paitrick ; 
that's  ma  complaint,  an'  its  past  curin'." 

Drumsheugh  went  over  to  the  fireplace,  and 
for  a  while  did  nothing  but  break  up  the 
smouldering  peats,  whose  smoke  powerfully- 
affected  his  nose  and  eyes. 

"  When  ye're  ready,  Paitrick,  there's  twa  or 
three  little  trokes  a'  wud  like  ye  tae  look  aifter, 
an'  a'll  tell  ye  aboot  them  as  lang's  ma  head's 
clear. 

"  A*  didna  keep  buiks,  as  ye  ken,  for  a'  aye 
hed  a  guid  memory,  so  naebody  'ill  be  harried 
for  money  aifter  ma  deith,  and  ye  'ill  hae  nae 
accoonts  tae  collect. 

"  But  the  fouk  are  honest  in  Drumtochty, 
and  they  'ill  be  offerin'  ye  siller,  an'  a'll  gie  ye 
ma  mind  aboot  it.  Gin  it  be  a  puir  body,  tell 
her  tae  keep  it  and  get  a  bit  plaidie  wi'  the 
money,  and  she  'ill  maybe  think  o*  her  auld 
doctor  at  a  time.  Gin  it  be  a  bien  (well-to- 
do)  man,  tak  half  of  what  he  offers,  for  a 
Drumtochty  man  wud  scorn  to  be  mean  in  sic 
circumstances ;  and  if  onybody  needs  a  doctor 


THE   DOCTOR'S   LAST  JOURNEY  299 

an*  canna  pay  for  him,  see  he's  no  left  tae  dee 
when  a'm  oot  o'  the  road." 

"  Nae  fear  o'  that  as  lang  as  a'm  livin',  Wee- 
lum  ;  that  hundred's  still  tae  the  fore,  ye  ken, 
an'  a'll  tak  care  it's  weel  spent. 

"  Yon  wes  the  best  job  we  ever  did  thegith- 
er,  an'  dookin'  Saunders  ;  ye  'ill  no  forget  that 
nicht,  Weelum" — a  gleam  came  into  the  doc- 
tor's eyes — "  tae  say  naethin'  o'  the  Highlan' 
fling." 

The  remembrance  of  that  great  victory  came 
upon  Drumsheugh,  and  tried  his  fortitude. 

"  What  'ill  become  o's  when  ye're  no  here 
tae  gie  a  hand  in  time  o'  need  ?  we  'ill  tak  ill 
wi'  a  stranger  that  disna  ken  ane  o's  frae 
anither." 

"  It's  a'  for  the  best,  Paitrick,  an'  ye  'ill  see 
that  in  a  whilie.  A've  kent  fine  that  ma  day 
wes  ower,  an'  that  ye  sud  hae  a  younger  man. 

"A'  did  what  a'  cud  tae  keep  up  wi'  the  new 
medicine,  but  a'  hed  little  time  for  readin',  an* 
nane  for  traivellin'. 

*  A'm  the  last  o'  the  auld  schule,  an'  a'  ken 
as  weel  as  onybody  thet  a'  wesna  sae  dainty 
an'   fine-mannered   as  the   town   doctors.    Ye 


300  A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

took  me  as  a'  wes,  an*  naebody  ever  cuist  up 
tae  me  that  a'  wes  a  plain  man.  Na,  na ;  ye've 
been  rael  kind  an'  conseederate  a'  thae  years." 

"  Weelum,  gin  ye  cairry  on  sic  nonsense  ony 
Ianger,"  interrupted  Drumsheugh,  huskily,  "  a'll 
leave  the  hoose ;  a'  canna  stand  it." 

"  It's  the  truth,  Paitrick,  but  we  'ill  gae  on 
wi'  our  wark,  for  a'm  failin'  fast. 

"  Gie  Janet  ony  sticks  of  furniture  she  needs 
tae  furnish  a  hoose,  and  sell  a'  thing  else  tae 
pay  the  wricht  (undertaker)  an'  bedrel  (grave- 
digger).  If  the  new  doctor  be  a  young  laddie 
and  no  verra  rich,  ye  micht  let  him  hae  the 
buiks  an'  instruments ;  it  'ill  aye  be  a  help. 

"  But  a'  wudna  like  ye  tae  sell  Jess,  for  she's 
been  a  faithfu'  servant,  an'  a  freend  tae. 
There's  a  note  or  twa  in  that  drawer  a'  savit, 
an'  if  ye  kent  ony  man  that  wud  gie  her  a  bite 
o'  grass  and  a  sta*  in  his  stable  till  she  follow- 
ed her  maister — " 

"Confoond  ye,  Weelum,"  broke  out  Drums- 
heugh ;  "  its  doonricht  cruel  o'  ye  to  speak 
like  this  tae  me.  Whar  wud  Jess  gang  but 
tae  Drumsheugh  ?  she  'ill  hae  her  run  o'  heck 
an'  manger  sae  lang  as   she  lives ;    the   Glen 


THE    DOCTOR'S   LAST  JOURNEY  301 

wudna  h'ke  tae  see  anither  man  on  Jess,  and 
nae  man  'ill  ever  touch  the  auld  mare." 

"Dinna  mind  me,  Paitrick,  for  a'  expeckit 
this;  but  ye  ken  we're  no  verra  gleg  wi*  oor 
tongues  in  Drumtochty,  an*  dinna  tell  a*  that's 
in  oor  hearts. 

"  Weel,  that's  a'  that  a'  mind,  an'  the  rest  a' 
leave  tae  yersel'.  A've  neither  kith  nor  kin  tae 
bury  me,  sae  you  an'  the  neeburs  'ill  need  tae 
lat  me  doon ;  but  gin  Tammas  Mitchell  or 
Saunders  be  stannin'  near  and  lookin'  as  if 
they  wud  like  a  cord,  gie't  tae  them,  Paitrick. 
They're  baith  dour  chiels,  and  haena  muckle 
tae  say,  but  Tammas  hes  a  graund  hert,  and 
there's  waur  fouk  in  the  Glen  than  Saunders. 

"  A'm  gettin'  drowsy,  an'  a'll  no  be  able  tae 
follow  ye  sune,  a'  doot ;  wud  ye  read  a  bit  tae 
me  afore  a'  fa'  ower  ? 

"  Ye  'ill  find  ma  mither's  Bible  on  the 
drawers'  heid,  but  ye  'ill  need  tae  come  close 
tae  the  bed,  for  a'm  no  hearin'  or  seein'  sae 
weel  as  a*  wes  when  ye  cam." 

Drumsheugh  put  on  his  spectacles  and 
searched  for  a  comfortable  Scripture,  while  the 
light  of  the  lamp  fell  on  his  shaking  hands  and 


3o2  A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

the  doctor's  face,  where  the  shadow  was  now 
settling. 

"  Ma  mither  aye  wantit  this  read  tae  her 
when  she  wes  sober"  (weak),  and  Drumsheugh 
began,  "  In  My  Father's  house  are  many  man- 
sions," but  MacLure  stopped  him. 

"  It's  a  bonnie  word,  an'  yir  mither  wes  a 
sanct ;  but  it's  no  for  the  like  o'  me.  It's  ower 
gude ;  a'  daurna  tak  it. 

<4  Shut  the  buik  an'  let  it  open  itsel,  an'  ye 
'ill  get  a  bit  a've  been  readin'  every  nicht  the 
laist  month." 

Then  Drumsheugh  found  the  Parable  where- 
in the  Master  tells  us  what  God  thinks  of  a 
Pharisee  and  of  a  penitent  sinner,  till  he  came 
to  the  words :  "  And  the  publican,  standing 
afar  off,  would  not  lift  up  so  much  as  his  eyes 
to  heaven,  but  smote  upon  his  breast,  saying, 
God  be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner." 

"  That  micht  hae  been  written  for  me, 
Paitrick,  or  ony  ither  auld  sinner  that  hes 
feenished  his  life,  an'  hes  naethin'  tae  say  for 
himsel'. 

"  It  wesna  easy  for  me  tae  get  tae  kirk,  but 
a'  cud  hae  managed  wi'  a  stretch,  an'  a'  used 


DRUMSHEUGH    SEARCHED   FOR   A   COMFORTABLE   SCRIPTURE 


THE  DOCTOR'S  LAST  JOURNEY   303 

langidge  a*  sudna,  an'  a*  micht  hae  been  gen- 
tler, and  no  been  so  short  in  the  temper.  A* 
see't  a*  noo. 

"  It's  ower  late  tae  mend,  but  ye  'ill  maybe 
juist  say  to  the  fouk  that  I  wes  sorry,  an*  a'm 
houpin'  that  the  Almichty  'ill  hae  mercy  on 
me. 

"  Cud  ye  .  .  .  pit  up  a  bit  prayer,  Paitrick  ?" 

"A'  haena  the  words,"  said  Drumsheugh  in 
great  distress  ;  "  wud  ye  like's  tae  send  for  the 
minister?" 

"  It's  no  the  time  for  that  noo,  an'  a'  wud 
rather  hae  yersel' — juist  what's  in  yir  heart, 
Paitrick :  the  Almichty  'ill  ken  the  lave  (rest) 
Himsel'.  " 

So  Drumsheugh  knelt  and  prayed  with 
many  pauses. 

"  Almichty  God  .  .  .  dinna  be  hard  on  Wee- 
lum  MacLure,  for  he's  no  been  hard  wi'  ony- 
body  in  Drumtochty.  ...  Be  kind  tae  him  as 
he's  been  tae  us  a'  for  forty  year.  .  .  .  We're 
a'  sinners  afore  Thee.  .  .  .  Forgive  him  what 
he's  dune  wrang,  an'  dinna  cuist  it  up  tae  him. 
. .  .  Mind  the  fouk  he's  helpit  .  .  .  the  wee- 
men  an'  bairnies  .  .  .    an'  gie  him  a  welcome 


304  A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

liame,  for  he's  sair  needin't  after  a*  his  wark. 
.  .  .    Amen." 

"  Thank  ye,  Paitrick,  and  gude  nicht  tae  ye. 
Ma  ain  true  freend,  gie's  yir  hand,  for  a'll  may- 
be no  ken  ye  again. 

"  Noo  a'll  say  ma  mither's  prayer  and  hae  a 
sleep,  but  ye  'ill  no  leave  me  till  a'  is  ower.'* 

Then  he  repeated  as  he  had  done  every 
night  of  his  life : 

*'  This  night  I  lay  me  down  to  sleep, 
I  pray  the  Lord  my  soul  to  keep, 
And  if  I  die  before  I  wake, 
I  pray  the  Lord  my  soul  to  take." 

He  was  sleeping  quietly  when  the  wind 
drove  the  snow  against  the  window  with  a 
sudden  "  swish ;"  and  he  Instantly  awoke,  so 
to  say,  in  his  sleep.     Some  one  needed  him. 

"  Are  ye  frae  Glen  Urtach  ?"  and  an  un 
heard  voice  seemed  to  have  answered  him. 

"  Worse  is  she,  an'  sufferin'  awfu' ;  that's  no 
lichtsome  ;  ye  did  richt  tae  come. 

"  The  front  door's  drifted  up ;  gang  roond 
tae  the  back,  an'  ye  'ill  get  intae  the  kitchen  , 
a'll  be  ready  in  a  meenut. 


THE  DOCTOR'S  LAST  JOURNEY    305 

"  Gie's  a  hand  wi'  the  lantern  when  a'm 
saidling  Jess,  an'  ye  needna  come  on  till  day- 
licht ;  a'  ken  the  road." 

Then  he  was  away  in  his  sleep  on  some 
errand  of  mercy,  and  struggling  through  the 
storm. 

"  It's  a  coorse  nicht,  Jess,  an*  heavy  traivel- 
lin' ;  can  ye  see  afore  ye,  lass  ?  for  a'm  clean 
confused  wi'  the  snaw ;  bide  a  wee  till  a'  find 
the  diveesion  o'  the  roads  ;  it's  aboot  here  back 
or  forrit. 

"  Steady,  lass,  steady,  dinna  plunge ;  it's  a 
drift  we're  in,  but  ye're  no  sinkin' ;  ...  up 
noo  ;  *  .  .  there  ye  are  on  the  road  again. 

"  Eh,  it's  deep  the  nicht,  an'  hard  on  us 
baith,  but  there's  a  puir  wumman  micht  dee  if 
we  didna  warstle  through ;  .  .  .  that's  it ;  ye 
ken  fine  what  a'm  sayin'. 

"  We  'ill  hae  tae  leave  the  road  here,  an*  tak 
tae  the  muir.  Sandie  'ill  no  can  leave  the  wife 
alane  tae  meet  us ;  .  .  .  feel  for  yersel',  lass, 
and  keep  oot  o'  the  holes. 

"  Yon's  the  hoose  black  in  the  snaw.  San- 
die !  man,  ye  frichtened  us ;  a'  didna  see  ye 
ahint  the  dyke  ;  hoo's  the  wife  ?  " 


3o6  A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

After  a  while  he  began  again : 

"  Ye're  fair  dune,  Jess,  and  so  a'  am  masel* ; 
we're  baith  gettin*  auld,  an'  dinna  tak  sae  weel 
wi'  the  nicht  wark. 

"  We  'ill  sune  be  hame  noo ;  this  is  the 
black  wood,  and  it's  no  lang  aifter  that ;  we're 
ready  for  oor  beds,  Jess  ;  .  .  .  ay,  ye  like  a  clap 
at  a  time  ;  mony  a  mile  we've  gaed    hegither. 

"  Yon's  the  licht  in  the  kitchen  window ;  nae 
wonder  ye're  nickering  (neighing) ;  .  .  .  it's 
been  a  stiff  journey ;  a'm  tired,  lass  .  .  .  a'm 
tired  tae  deith,"  and  the  voice  died  into  silence. 

Drumsheugh  held  his  friend's  hand,  which 
now  and  again  tightened  in  his,  and  as  he 
watched,  a  change  came  over  the  face  on  the 
pillow  beside  him.  The  lines  of  weariness  dis- 
appeared, as  if  God's  hand  had  passed  over  it ; 
and  peace  began  to  gather  round  the  closed 
eyes. 

The  doctor  has  forgotten  the  toil  of  later 
years,  and  has  gone  back  to  his  boyhood. 

"  The  Lord's  my  Shepherd,  I'll  not  want/' 

he  repeated,  till  he  came  to  the  last  verse,  and 
then  he  hesitated. 


THE  DOCTOR'S  LAST  JOURNEY    307 

"  Goodness  and  mercy  all  my  life 
Shall  surely  follow  me. 

"  Follow  me  .  .  .  and  .  .  .  and  .  .  .  what's 
next  ?  Mither  said  I  wes  tae  haed  ready  when 
she  cam. 

"  '  A'll  come  afore  ye  gang  tae  sleep,  Wullie, 
but  ye  'ill  no  get  yir  kiss  unless  ye  can  feenish 
the  psalm.' 

"  And  ...  in  God's  house  .  .  .  for  evermore 
my  .  .  .  hoo  dis  it  rin  ?  a'  canna  mind  the 
next  word  .  .  .  my,  my 

"  It's  ower  dark  noo  tae  read  it,  an'  mither 
ill  sune  be  comin'." 

Drumsheugh,  in  an  agony,  whispered  into 
his  ear,  " '  My  dwelling-place,'  Weelum." 

"  That's  it,  that's  it  a'  noo ;  wha  said  it  ? 

"  And  in  God's  house  for  evermore 
My  dwelling-place  shall  be. 

"  A'm  ready  noo,  an'  a'll  get  ma  kiss  when 
mither  comes ;  a'  wish  she  wud  come,  for  a'm 
tired  an'  wantin'  tae  sleep. 

"Yon's  her  step  .  .  .  an'  she's  carryin*  a 
licht  in  her  hand  ;  a'  see  it  through  the  door. 

"  Mither !  a'  kent  ye  wudna  forget  yir  laddie, 


3o8  A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

for  ye  promised  tae  come,  and  a've  feenished 
ma  psalm. 

"  And  in  God's  house  for  evermore 
My  dwelling-place  shall  be. 

"  Gie  me  the  kiss,  mither,  for  a've  been  wait- 
in'  for  ye,  an'  a'll  sune  be  asleep." 

The  grey  morning  light  fell  on  Drumsheugh, 
still  holding  his  friend's  cold  hand,  and  staring 
at  a  hearth  where  the  fire  had  died  down  into 
white  ashes ;  but  the  peace  on  the  doctor's  face 
was  of  one  who  rested  from  his  labours. 


V 

THE   MOURNING  OF  THE  GLEN 

Dr.  MacLure  was  buried  during  the  great 
snowstorm,  which  is  still  spoken  of,  and  will  re- 
main the  standard  of  snowfall  in  Drumtochty 
for  the  century.  The  snow  was  deep  on  the 
Monday,  and  the  men  that  gave  notice  of  his 
funeral  had  hard  work  to  reach  the  doctor's  dis- 
tant patients.  On  Tuesday  morning  it  began 
to  fall  again  in  heavy  fleecy  flakes,  and  con- 
tinued till  Thursday,  and  then  on  Thursday  the 
north  wind  rose  and  swept  the  snow  into  the 
hollows  of  the  roads  that  went  to  the  upland 
farms,  and  built  it  into  a  huge  bank  at  the 
mouth  of  Glen  Urtach,  and  laid  it  across  our 
main  roads  in  drifts  of  every  size  and  the  most 
lovely  shapes,  and  filled  up  crevices  in  the  hills 
to  the  depth  of  fifty  feet. 

On  Friday  morning  the  wind  had  sunk  to 


310  A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

passing  gusts  that  powdered  your  coat  with 
white,  and  the  sun  was  shining  on  one  of  those 
winter  landscapes  no  townsman  can  imagine 
and  no  countryman  ever  forgets.  The  Glen, 
from  end  to  end  and  side  to  side,  was  clothed 
in  a  glistering  mantle  white  as  no  fuller  on 
earth  could  white  it,  that  flung  its  skirts  over 
the  clumps  of  trees  and  scattered  farm-houses, 
and  was  only  divided  where  the  Tochty 
ran  with  black,  swollen  stream.  The  great 
moor  rose  and  fell  in  swelling  billows  of  snow 
that  arched  themselves  over  the  burns,  running 
deep  in  the  mossy  ground,  and  hid  the  black 
peat  bogs  with  a  thin,  treacherous  crust.  Be- 
yond, the  hills  northwards  and  westwards  stood 
high  in  white  majesty,  save  where  the  black 
crags  of  Glen  Urtach  broke  the  line,  and,  above 
our  lower  Grampians,  we  caught  glimpses  of 
the  distant  peaks  that  lifted  their  heads  in  holi- 
ness unto  God. 

It  seemed  to  me  a  fitting  day  for  William 
MacLure's  funeral,  rather  than  summer  time, 
with  its  flowers  and  golden  corn.  He  had  not 
been  a  soft  man,  nor  had  he  lived  an  easy  life, 
and  now  he  was  to  be  laid  to  rest  amid  the 


THE  MOURNING  OF  THE  GLEN    311 

austere  majesty  of  winter,  yet  in  the  shining  of 
the  sun.  Jamie  Soutar,  with  whom  I  toiled 
across  the  Glen,  did  not  think  with  me,  but  was 
gravely  concerned. 

"  Nae  doot  it's  a  graund  sicht ;  the  like  o't 
is  no  gien  tae  us  twice  in  a  generation,  an'  nae 
king  wes  ever  carried  tae  his  tomb  in  sic  a 
cathedral. 

"  But  it's  the  fouk  a'm  conseederin',  an'  hoo 
they  'ill  win  through  ;  it's  hard  eneuch  for  them 
'at's  on  the  road,  an'  it's  clean  impossible  for 
the  lave. 

"  They  'ill  dae  their  best,  every  man  o*  them, 
ye  may  depend  on  that,  an'  hed  it  been  open 
weather  there  wudna  hev  been  six  able-bodied 
men  missin'. 

"  A'  wes  mad  at  them,  because  they  never 
said  onything  when  he  wes  leevin',  but  they 
felt  for  a'  that  what  he  hed  dune,  an',  a'  think, 
he  kent  it  afore  he  deed. 

"  He  hed  juist  ae  faut,  tae  ma  thinkin',  for  a* 
never  jidged  the  waur  o'  him  for  his  titch  of 
rochness — guid  trees  hae  gnarled  bark — but  he 
thocht  ower  little  o'  himsel. 

11  Noo,  gin  a'  hed  asked  him  hoo  mony  fouk 


3i2  A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

wud  come  tae  his  beerial,  he  wud  hae  said, 
*  They  'ill  be  Drumsheugh  an'  yersel',  an'  may- 
be twa  or  three  neeburs  besides  the  minister,' 
an'  the  fact  is  that  nae  man  in  oor  time  wud 
hae  sic  a  githerin'  if  it  werena  for  the  storm. 

"  Ye  see,"  said  Jamie,  who  had  been  count- 
ing heads  all  morning,  "  there's  six  shepherds 
in  Glen  Urtach — they're  shut  up  fast ;  an'  there 
micht  hae  been  a  gude  half  dizen  frae  Dunleith 
wy,  an'  a'm  telt  there's  nae  road ;  an'  there's 
the  heich  Glen,  nae  man  cud  cross  the  muir  the 
day,  an'  it's  aucht  mile  roond ;"  and  Jamie  pro- 
ceeded to  review  the  Glen  in  every  detail  of 
age,  driftiness  of  road  and  strength  of  body, 
till  we  arrived  at  the  doctor's  cottage,  when  he 
had  settled  on  a  reduction  of  fifty  through 
stress  of  weather. 

Drumsheugh  was  acknowledged  as  chief 
mourner  by  the  Glen,  and  received  us  at  the 
gate  with  a  labored  attempt  at  everyday  man- 
ners. 

"  Ye've  hed  heavy  traivellin',  a'  doot,  an'  ye 
'ill  be  cauld.  It's  hard  weather  for  the  sheep, 
an'  a'm  thinkin'  this  'ill  be  a  feeding  storm. 

*  There  wes  nae  use  trying  tae  dig  oot  the 


THE  MOURNING  OF  THE  GLEN    313 

front  door  yestreen,  for  it  wud  hae  been 
drifted  up  again  before  morning.  We've  clear- 
ed awa  the  snow  at  the  back  for  the  prayer ; 
ye  'ill  get  in  at  the  kitchen  door. 

"  There's  a  puckle  Dunleith  men " 

"  Wha?"  cried  Jamie  in  an  instant. 

"  Dunleith  men,"  said  Drumsheugh. 

"  Div  ye  mean  they're  here,  whar  are  they  ?  " 

"  Drying  themsels  at  the  fire,  an'  no  withoot 
need ;  ane  of  them  gied  ower  the  head  in  a 
drift,  and  his  neeburs  hed  tae  pu'  him  oot. 

"  It  took  them  a  gude  fower  oors  tae  get 
across,  an'  it  wes  coorse  wark ;  they  likit  him 
weel  doon  that  wy,  an',  Jamie  man" — here 
Drumsheugh's  voice  changed  its  note,  and  his 
public  manner  disappeared — "what  div  ye 
think  o'  this  ?  every  man  o'  them  hes  on  his 
blacks." 

"  It's  mair  than  cud  be  expeckit,"  said 
Jamie ;  "  but  whar  dae  yon  men  come  frae, 
Drumsheugh  ?  " 

Two  men  in  plaids  were  descending  the  hill 
behind  the  doctor's  cottage,  taking  three  feet 
at  a  stride,  and  carrying  long  staffs  in  their 
hands. 


314  A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

"  They're  Glen  Urtach  men,  Jamie,  for  ane 
o'  them  wes  at  Kildrummie  fair  wi'  sheep,  but 
hoo  they've  wun  doon  passes  me." 

"  It  canna  be,  Drumsheugh,"  said  Jamie, 
greatly  excited.  "  Glen  Urtach's  steikit  up  wi' 
sna  like  a  locked  door. 

"  Ye're  no  surely  frae  the  Glen,  lads?"  as  the 
men  leaped  the  dyke  and  crossed  to  the  back 
door,  the  snow  falling  from  their  plaids  as  they 
.walked. 

"  We're  that  an'  nae  mistak,  but  a'  thocht  we 
wud  be  lickit  ae  place,  eh,  Chairlie  ?  a'm  no  sae 
weel  acquant  wi'  the  hill  on  this  side,  an'  there 
wes  some  kittle  (hazardous)  drifts." 

"  It  wes  grand  o'  ye  tae  mak  the  attempt," 
said  Drumsheugh,  "  an'  a'm  gled  ye're  safe." 

"  He  cam  through  as  bad  himsel  tae  help  ma 
wife,"  was  Charlie's  reply. 

"They're  three  mair  Urtach  shepherds  'ill 
come  in  by  sune ;  they're  frae  Upper  Urtach, 
an*  we  saw  them  fording  the  river;  ma  certes, 
it  took  them  a'  their  time,  for  it  wes  up  tae 
their  waists  and  rinnin'  like  a  mill  lade,  but 
they  jined  hands  and  cam  ower  fine."  And  the 
Urtach  men  went  in  to  the  fire. 


THE  MOURNING  OF  THE  GLEN    315 

The  Glen  began  to  arrive  in  twos  and  threes, 
and  Jamie,  from  a  point  of  vantage  at  the  gate, 
and  under  an  appearance  of  utter  indifference, 
checked  his  roll  till  even  he  was  satisfied. 

"  Weelum  MacLure  'ill  hae  the  beerial  he  de- 
serves in  spite  o'  sna  and  drifts ;  it  passes  a* 
tae  see  hoo  they've  githered  frae  far  an'  near. 

"A'm  thinkin'  ye  can  colleck  them  for  the 
minister  noo,  Drumsheugh.  A'body's  here  ex- 
cept the  heich  Glen,  an'  we  mauna  luke  for 
them." 

"  Dinna  be  sae  sure  o'  that,  Jamie.  Yon's 
terrible  like  them  on  the  road,  wi'  Whinnie  at 
their  head  ;"  and  so  it  was,  twelve  in  all,  only 
.old  Adam  Ross  absent,  detained  by  force,  being 
eighty-two  years  of  age. 

"  It  wud  hae  been  temptin'  Providence  tae 
cross  the  muir,"  Whinnie  explained,  "  and  it's 
a  fell  stap  roond  ;  a'  doot  we're  laist." 

"  See,  Jamie,"  said  Drumsheugh,  as  he  went 
to  the  house,  "  gin  there  be  ony  antern  body  in 
sicht  afore  we  begin  ;  we  maun  mak  allooances 
the  day  wi'  twa  feet  o'  sna  on  the  grund,  tae 
say  naethin'  o'  drifts." 

*  There's  something  at  the  turning  an*  it's  no 


316  A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

fouk ;  it's  a  machine  o'  some  kind  or  ither— 
maybe  a  bread  cart  that's  focht  its  wy  up." 

"Na,  it's  no  that;  there's  twa  horses,  ane 
afore  the  ither ;  if  it's  no  a  dogcairt  wi'  twa 
men  in  the  front ;  they  'ill  be  comin'  tae  the 
beerial." 

"  What  wud  ye  sae,  Jamie,"  Hillocks  sug- 
gested, "  but  it  micht  be  some  o'  thae  Muirtown 
doctors  ?  they  were  awfu'  chief  wi'  MacLure." 

"  It's  nae  Muirtown  doctors,"  cried  Jamie,  in 
great  exultation,  "  nor  ony  ither  doctors.  A* 
ken  thae  horses,  and  wha's  ahint  them.  Quick, 
man  Hillocks,  stop  the  fouk,  and  tell  Drums- 
heugh  tae  come  oot,  for  Lord  Kilspindie  hes 
come  up  frae  Muirtown  Castle." 

Jamie  himself  slipped  behind,  and  did  not 
wish  to  be  seen. 

"  It's  the  respeck  he's  gettin*  the  day  frae 
high  an'  low,"  was  Jamie's  husky  apology ;  "  tae 
think  o'  them  fechtin'  their  wy  doon  frae  Glen 
Urtach,  and  toiling  roond  frae  the  heich  Glen, 
an'  his  lordship  driving  through  the  drifts  a* 
the  road  frae  Muirtown,  juist  tae  honour  Wee- 
lum  MacLure's  beerial. 

"  It's  nae  ceremony  the  day,  ye  may  lippen 


THE  MOURNING  OF  THE  GLEN   317 

tae  it ;  it's  the  hert  brocht  the  fouk,  an'  ye  can 
see  it  in  their  faces  ;  ilka  man  hes  his  ain  reason, 
an'  he's  thinkin'  on't,  though  he's  speakin'  o' 
naethin'  but  the  storm ;  he's  mindin'  the  day 
Weelum  pued  him  oot  frae  the  jaws  o'  death, 
or  the  nicht  he  savit  the  gude  wife  in  her  oor 
o'  tribble. 

"  That's  why  they  pit  on  their  blacks  this 
mornin'  afore  it  wes  licht,  and  wrastled  through 
the  sna  drifts  at  risk  o'  life.  Drumtochty  fouk 
canna  say  muckle,  it's  an  awfu'  peety,  and  they 
'ill  dae  their  best  tae  show  naethin',  but  a'  can 
read  it  a'  in  their  een. 

"  But  wae's  me" — and  Jamie  broke  down 
utterly  behind  a  fir  tree,  so  tender  a  thing  is  a 
cynic's  heart — "  that  fouk  'ill  tak  a  man's  best 
wark  a'  his  days  withoot  a  word  an'  no  dae  him 
honour  till  he  dees.  Oh,  if  they  hed  only  gith- 
ered  like  this  juist  aince  when  he  wes  livin',  an* 
lat  him  see  he  hedna  laboured  in  vain.  His 
reward  hes  come  ower  late,  ower  late." 

During  Jamie's  vain  regret,  the  Castle  trap, 
bearing  the  marks  of  a  wild  passage  in  the  snow- 
covered  wheels,  a  broken  shaft  tied  with  rope, 
a  twisted  lamp,  and  the  panting  horses,  pulled 


318  A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

up  between  two  rows  of  farmers,  and  Drums- 
heugh  received  his  lordship  with  evident 
emotion. 

"  Ma  lord  ....  we  never  thocht  o'  this 
....    an'  sic  a  road." 

"  How  are  you,  Drumsheugh  ?  and  how  are 
you  all  this  wintry  day  ?  That's  how  I'm  half  an 
hour  late  ;  it  took  us  four  hours'  stiff' work  for 
sixteen  miles,  mostly  in  the  drifts,  of  course." 

"It  wes  gude  o'  yir  lordship,  tae  mak  sic  an 
effort,  an'  the  hale  Glen  wull  be  gratefu'  tae  ye, 
for  ony  kindness  tae  him  is  kindness  tae  us." 

"You  make  too  much  of  it,  Drumsheugh," 
and  the  clear,  firm  voice  was  heard  of  all ;  "  it 
would  have  taken  more  than  a  few  snow  drifts 
to  keep  me  from  showing  my  respect  to  William 
MacLure's  memory." 

When  all  had  gathered  in  a  half  circle  before 
the  kitchen  door,  Lord  Kilspindie  came  out — 
every  man  noticed  he  had  left  his  overcoat,  and 
was  in  black,  like  the  Glen — and  took  a  place  in 
the  middle  with  Drumsheugh  and  Burnbrae,  his 
two  chief  tenants,  on  the  right  and  left,  and  as 
the  minister  appeared  every  man  bared  his  head. 

The  doctor  looked  on  the  company — a  hun- 


THE   DRUMTOCHTV    WRICHT   IN    HIS   SHOP 


THE  MOURNING  OF  THE  GLEN     319 

dred  men  such  as  for  strength  and  gravity  you 
could  hardly  have  matched  in  Scotland — stand- 
ing out  in  picturesque  relief  against  the  white 
background,  and  he  said  : 

"  It's  a  bitter  day,  friends,  and  some  of  you 
are  old  ;  perhaps  it  might  be  wise  to  cover  your 
heads  before  I  begin  to  pray." 

Lord  Kilspindie,  standing  erect  and  grey- 
headed between  the  two  old  men,  replied : 

"  We  thank  you,  Dr.  Davidson,  for  your 
thoughtfulness  ;  but  he  endured  many  a  storm 
in  our  service,  and  we  are  not  afraid  of  a  few 
minutes'  cold  at  his  funeral." 

A  look  flashed  round  the  stern  faces,  and 
was  reflected  from  the  minister,  who  seemed  to 
stand  higher. 

His  prayer,  we  noticed  with  critical  apprecia- 
tion, was  composed  for  the  occasion,  and  the 
first  part  was  a  thanksgiving  to  God  for  the 
life-work  of  our  doctor,  wherein  each  clause 
was  a  reference  to  his  services  and  sacrifices. 
No  one  moved  or  said  Amen — it  had  been 
strange  with  us — but  when  every  man  had 
heard  the  gratitude  of  his  dumb  heart  offered 
to  Heaven,  there  was  a  great  sigh. 


320  A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

After  which  the  minister  prayed  that  we 
might  have  grace  to  live  as  this  man  had  done 
from  youth  to  old  age,  not  for  himself,  but  for 
others,  and  that  we  might  be  followed  to  our 
grave  by  somewhat  of  "  that  love  wherewith 
we  mourn  this  day  Thy  servant  departed." 
Again  the  same  sigh,  and  the  minister  said 
Amen. 

The  "  wricht"  stood  in  the  doorway  without 
speaking,  and  four  stalwart  men  came  forward. 
They  were  the  volunteers  that  would  lift  the 
coffin  and  carry  it  for  the  first  stage.  One  was 
Tammas,  Annie  Mitchell's  man ;  and  another 
was  Saunders  Baxter,  for  whose  life  MacLure 
had  his  great  fight  with  death  ;  and  the  third 
was  the  Glen  Urtach  shepherd  for  whose  wife's 
sake  MacLure  suffered  a  broken  leg  and  three 
fractured  ribs  in  a  drift ;  and  the  fourth,  a 
Dunleith  man,  had  his  own  reasons  of  remem- 
brance. 

"  He's  far  lichter  than  ye  wud  expeck  for  sae 
big  a  man — there  wesna  muckle  left  o'  him,  ye 
see — but  the  road  is  heavy,  and  a'll  change  ye 
aifter  the  first  half  mile." 

"Ye  needna  tribble  yersel,  wricht,"  said  the 


THE  MOURNING  OF  THE  GLEN    321 

man  from  Glen  Urtach  ;  "  the'll  be  nae  change 
in  the  cairryin'  the  day,"  and  Tammas  was 
thankful  some  one  had  saved  him  speaking. 

Surely  no  funeral  is  like  unto  that  of  a  doctor 
for  pathos,  and  a  peculiar  sadness  fell  on  that 
company  as  his  body  was  carried  out  who  for 
nearly  half  a  century  had  been  their  help  in 
sickness,  and  had  beaten  back  death  time  after 
time  from  their  door.  Death  after  all  was  vic- 
tor, for  the  man  that  saved  them  had  not  been 
able  to  save  himself. 

As  the  coffin  passed  the  stable  door  a  horse 
neighed  within,  and  every  man  looked  at  his 
neighbour.  It  was  his  old  mare  crying  to  her 
master. 

Jamie  slipped  into  the  stable,  and  went  up 
into  the  stall. 

"  Puir  lass,  ye're  no  gaein'  wi'  him  the  day, 
an*  ye  'ill  never  see  him  again ;  ye've  hed  yir 
last  ride  thegither,  an*  ye  were  true  tae  the 
end." 

After  the  funeral  Drumsheugh  came  him- 
self for  Jess,  and  took  her  to  his  farm.  Saun- 
ders made  a  bed  for  her  with  soft,  dry  straw, 
and  prepared  for  her    supper   such   things  as 


322  A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

horses  love.  Jess  would  neither  take  food  nor 
rest,  but  moved  uneasily  in  her  stall,  and  seemed 
to  be  waiting  for  some  one  that  never  came. 
No  man  knows  what  a  horse  or  a  dog  under- 
stands and  feels,  for  God  hath  not  given  them 
our  speech.  If  any  footstep  was  heard  in  the 
courtyard,  she  began  to  neigh,  and  was  always 
looking  round  as  the  door  opened.  But  nothing 
would  tempt  her  to  eat,  and  in  the  night-time 
Drumsheugh  heard  her  crying  as  if  she  ex- 
pected to  be  taken  out  for  some  sudden  jour- 
ney. The  Kildrummie  veterinary  came  to  see 
her,  and  said  that  nothing  could  be  done  when 
it  happened  after  this  fashion  with  an  old  horse. 

"  A've  seen  it  aince  afore,"  he  said.  "  Gin 
she  were  a  Christian  instead  o'  a  horse,  ye 
micht  say  she  wes  dying  o*  a  broken  hert." 

He  recommended  that  she  should  be  shot 
to  end  her  misery,  but  no  man  could  be  found 
in  the  Glen  to  do  the  deed,  and  Jess  relieved 
them  of  the  trouble.  When  Drumsheugh  went 
to  the  stable  on  Monday  morning,  a  week 
after  Dr.  MacLure  fell  on  sleep,  Jess  was  rest- 
ing at  last,  but  her  eyes  were  open  and  her 
face  turned  to  the  door. 


WOMEN    STANDING    AT   THE    DOOR 


THE  MOURNING  OF  THE  GLEN     323 

"  She  wes  a'  the  wife  he  hed,"  said  Jamie,  as 
he  rejoined  the  procession,  "  an'  they  luved  ane 
anither  weel." 

The  black  thread  wound  itself  along  the 
whiteness  of  the  Glen,  the  coffin  first,  with  his 
lordship  and  Drumsheugh  behind,  and  the 
others  as  they  pleased,  but  in  closer  ranks  than 
usual,  because  the  snow  on  either  side  was 
deep,  and  because  this  was  not  as  other  funer- 
als. They  could  see  the  women  standing  at 
the  door  of  every  house  on  the  hillside,  and 
weeping,  for  each  family  had  some  good  reason 
in  forty  years  to  remember  MacLure.  When 
Bell  Baxter  saw  Saunders  alive,  and  the  coffin 
of  the  doctor  that  saved  him  on  her  man's 
shoulder,  she  bowed  her  head  on  the  dyke,  and 
the  bairns  in  the  village  made  such  a  wail  for 
him  they  loved  that  the  men  nearly  disgraced 
themselves. 

"  A'm  gled  we're  through  that,  at  ony  rate," 
said  Hillocks ;  "  he  wes  awfu'  taen  up  wi'  the 
bairns,  conseederin'  he  hed  nane  o'  his  ain." 

There  was  only  one  drift  on  the  road  be- 
tween his  cottage  and  the  kirkyard,  and  it  had 
been  cut  early  that  morning. 


324  A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

Before  daybreak  Saunders  had  roused  the 
lads  in  the  bothy,  and  they  had  set  to  work  by 
the  light  of  lanterns  with  such  good  will  that, 
when  Drumsheugh  came  down  to  engineer  a 
circuit  for  the  funeral,  there  was  a  fair  passage, 
with  walls  of  snow  twelve  feet  high  on  either 
side. 

"  Man,  Saunders,"  he  said,  "  this  wes  a  kind 
thocht,  and  rael  weel  dune." 

But  Saunders'  only  reply  was  this : 

"  Mony  a  time  he's  hed  tae  gang  roond ;  he 
micht  as  weel  hae  an  open  road  for  his  last 
traivel." 

When  the  coffin  was  laid  down  at  the  mouth 
of  the  grave,  the  only  blackness  in  the  white 
kirkyard,  Tammas  Mitchell  did  the  most  beau- 
tiful thing  in  all  his  life.  He  knelt  down  and 
carefully  wiped  off  the  snow  the  wind  had 
blown  upon  the  coffin,  and  which  had  covered 
the  name,  and  when  he  had  done  this  he  dis- 
appeared behind  the  others,  so  that  Drums- 
heugh could  hardly  find  him  to  take  a  cord. 
For  these  were  the  eight  that  buried  Dr.  Mac- 
Lure — Lord  Kilspindie  at  tne  head  as  landlord 
and  Drumsheugh  at  the  feet  as  his  friend  ;  the 


THE  MOURNING  OF  THE  GLEN    325 

two  ministers  of  the  parish  came  first  on  the 
right  and  left ;  then  Burnbrae  and  Hillocks  of 
the  farmers,  and  Saunders  and  Tammas  for  the 
plowmen.  So  the  Glen  he  loved  laid  him  to 
rest. 

When  the  bedrel  had  finished  his  work  and 
the  turf  had  been  spread,  Lord  Kilspindie 
spoke : 

"  Friends  of  Drumtochty,  it  would  not  be 
right  that  we  should  part  in  silence  and  no 
man  say  what  is  in  every  heart.  We  have 
buried  the  remains  of  one  that  served  this 
Glen  with  a  devotion  that  has  known  no  re- 
serve, and  a  kindliness  that  never  failed,  for 
more  than  forty  years.  I  have  seen  many 
brave  men  in  my  day,  but  no  man  in  the 
trenches  of  Sebastopol  carried  himself  more 
knightly  than  William  MacLure.  You  will 
never  have  heard  from  his  lips  what  I  may 
tell  you  to-day,  that  my  father  secured  for  him 
a  valuable  post  in  his  younger  days,  and  he 
preferred  to  work  among  his  own  people ; 
and  I  wished  to  do  many  things  for  him  when 
he  was  old,  but  he  would  have  nothing  for 
himself.     He  will  never  be  forgotten  while  one 


326  A  DOCTOR  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL 

of  us  lives,  and  I  pray  that  all  doctors  every- 
where may  share  his  spirit.  If  it  be  your 
pleasure,  I  shall  erect  a  cross  above  his  grave, 
and  shall  ask  my  old  friend  and  companion  Dr. 
Davidson,  your  minister,  to  choose  the  text  to 
be  inscribed." 

"  We  thank  you,  Lord  Kilspindie,"  said  the 
doctor,  "  for  your  presence  with  us  in  our  sor- 
row and  your  tribute  to  the  memory  of  Wil- 
liam MacLure,  and  I  choose  this  for  his  text : 

" '  Greater  love  hath  no  man  than  this,  that 
a  man  lay  down  his  life  for  his  friends. ' ' 

Milton  was,  at  that  time,  held  in  the  bonds 
of  a  very  bitter  theology,  and  his  indignation 
was  stirred  by  this  unqualified  eulogium. 

"  No  doubt  Dr.  MacLure  hed  mony  natural 
virtues,  an*  he  did  his  wark  weel,  but  it  wes  a 
peety  he  didna  mak  mair  profession  o'  relee- 
gion." 

"  When  William  MacLure  appears  before  the 
Judge,  Milton,"  said  Lachlan  Campbell,  who 
that  day  spoke  his  last  words  in  public,  and 
they  were  in  defence  of  charity,  "  He  will  not 
be  asking  him  about  his  professions,  for  the 
doctor's  judgment  hass  been  ready  long  ago; 


THE  MOURNING  OF  THE  GLEN     327 

and  it  iss  a  good  judgment,  and  you  and  I  will 
be  happy  men  if  we  get  the  like  of  it. 

"  It  iss  written  in  the  Gospel,  but  it  iss  Wil- 
liam MacLure  that  will  not  be  expecting  it." 

"What  is't,  Lachlan?"  asked  Jamie  Soutar, 
eagerly. 

The  old  man,  now  very  feeble,  stood  in  the 
middle  of  the  road,  and  his  face,  once  so  hard, 
was  softened  into  a  winsome  tenderness. 

" '  Come,  ye  blessed  of  My  Father  ...  I  was 
sick,  and  ye  visited  Me/  " 


yCl564<J7 


